


Meating My True Self

by OceanSpiral, Superbeans



Category: Bob’s Burgers, Persona Series
Genre: Alternate Persona, Angst, Gen, Mythology - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 14:54:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 39,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13549686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OceanSpiral/pseuds/OceanSpiral, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Superbeans/pseuds/Superbeans
Summary: Bog Harbour wasn't a place listed in any 'Top 100 Vacation Locations' magazines. Hell, it was barely listed on the map. In tiny writing, as if it were a place you could forget even existed.But things took a turn for this dull, dingy town, when a tacit young boy came to live with his obscure relative, and suddenly middle school kids started disappearing.The locals were clueless, and the police clearly did not care, so it was up to Ken the Albino to solve the mystery of Bog Harbour, and bring the perpetrator to justice!...well hopefully. Not ending up like the other victims would be enough of a success.





	1. Prologue - The Wheel Turns

Prologue

 

Fog was the enemy of certainty. A blanket of humidity obscured what should have been an easy, familiar place. But like worlds glimpsed in snatches of sleep, he could, at best, only be half sure that this was real.

A slow whine echoed from the shroud of fog ahead of him. He raised his arm, held his hand in front and watched the fog greedily swallow it up. He stepped forward, feeling it nip and grab at his legs.

Seeing what lay in front of him, he wondered if perhaps he should have been more surprised to see a Ferris wheel rising out of the fog. Instead, he waited until it slowed and a compartment rattled to a stop. Weary and rusted, it looked almost sorry for itself.

With a billowing of acrid smoke, the door of the compartment unlocked with a _ker-chunk._ A woman stepped out, light spilling out from behind her. She wore a dress suit in deepest royal blue and her face relaxed into a gentle smile. He felt all the tension evaporate from him.

”Hello there,” Her voice was soft and encouraging, the type you would automatically trust. “You must be the one we’re expecting. Please, do come in.”

With a friendly tip of her hostess cap, the blonde lady melted back into the soft light of the carriage. A shiver pricked at the base of his spine and he bundled himself deeper into his heavy sweater, watching goosebumps spring up on his chalk white skin. He followed. There was nowhere else to go.

“Good evening.” Behind them, the door to the carriage slammed shut and it lurched back into life. The young man fought to regain his footing as the carriage lifted itself up and began a slow ascent. “And welcome to the Velvet Room.”

Velvet Room? Wasn’t that some sort of club middle aged women loved to hang around? The young man sucked in his breath. From the outside, this carriage looked ordinary enough. But inside, it was completely different. For a start, it seemed twice as large. It was clear someone lived here, judging by the plentiful supply of alcohol parked on a tray in the corner.

A man sat opposite him – the owner of this place, maybe? How could he not have noticed him earlier? He looked the sort of man you’d only see in graphic novels, with a long, slender nose poking between bulging eyes and a devious smile set upon thin lips.

“I am the one they call Igor.” The man spoke in a deep and breathy voice, like he savoured the taste of each and every letter on his tongue. As he spoke, his fingers tapped together. “How interesting that you’ve been called to me. This normally only happens after certain… _bonds_ have been made.”

The young man felt Igor’s gaze sweep intrusively up and down his body. One gnarled hand waved in front of him and a selection of playing cards – royal blue backed with peculiar markings – materialised on the table that stood between them.

“Perhaps there is something that awaits you, after all. It seems as though you and Fate have been… intertwined.”

The young man frowned. This was all becoming a little too strange. A man that spoke like a Shakespeare villain living on a Ferris wheel with an air hostess lady and a bunch of playing cards. Was this some sort of crazy fever dream?

The playing cards – six on closer inspection – had flipped over. Strange designs danced in front of his eyes, too intricate to make out properly.

 “I sense an oncoming change in your life,” Igor nodded knowingly. “One that, without proper precaution, may prove too much for you to handle. Do you believe in fortune telling, perhaps? A simple deck of cards mirrors life in such a simple, yet perfect way. Care for a demonstration?”

Without even moving his hands, the cards on the table seemed to shuffle themselves around at a blinding pace. Milliseconds later, the cards on the table were returned to their original position.

“Pick three, please.”

Igor cross-hatched his fingers, and stared down his long nose at the young man. The boy gulped, looked around nervously, and extended a shaking hand towards the first of the cards. It and two others were flipped, and Igor’s eyes flashed.

“How interesting… according to what I see here, you are in for quite an adventure. If you take matters into your own hands, and tread _very_ carefully, you may just be able to prevent matters of a catastrophic nature. But it won’t be easy. You’ll need to forge alliances, learn to adapt under pressure, and above all, assert yourself.”

Their carriage squeaked to a sudden halt, and whatever was in Igor’s glass spilled. The boy looked out of the windows to see lights looming in the distance. Of a city, maybe?

“Your destiny awaits you,” Igor’s grin widened. “And we will meet again soon.”


	2. Tee for Two

_The sickly, sour stench invaded his nostrils, forced its way inside until it felt like his whole body was filled with acrid rot. The young man span around, trying to locate its source. His steps, heavy and laboured, felt like a marathon’s worth of effort. And then there was the fog. The deep, impenetrable fog that made it almost impossible to see further than a few inches. Something wasn’t right. It wasn’t just the smell or the terrible, oppressive atmosphere. The fear went right down to the bone._

_The young man shivered as he felt his way around. Whatever was keeping him here, it sure wasn’t making him feel welcome. Was he doomed to spend eternity here, like a lab rat stuck in a maze? His leg brushed up against something on the ground. Something heavy, solid. The first instinct told him to bolt, to run, to get as far away from whatever thing he had just happened upon. The smell had reached unbearable levels, one hand placed over his mouth and nose to block out the worst of it. Still its metallic tang permeated the gaps in his fingers, catching him at the back of the throat like a fishhook embedded in an unlucky catch._

_His limbs felt heavier than ever, but the boy found the strength to kneel down, get closer to this mystery. A shaking hand stretched out and disappeared into the fog moments afterwards. His fingers came into eventual contact with something cold. Something that squished underneath his hand like mouldy fruit. A mixture of textures… of smooth, springy, rough. Then something that felt like fabric._

_His trembling hand travelled further upwards. Then, the soft tassels of hair. Human hair. No. It couldn’t be. His heart thudded faster and faster against the confines of his ribcage. His breath came in great gasping gulps. No. No! There’s no way…!_

_He could forget this. All he had to do was take his hand away, turn around and pretend like he had never seen it. But as he withdrew, something cold and slimy closed around his wrist. He glanced down and saw blue fingers splayed across his arm._

_With a thick, rattling breath, the body on the ground exhaled into the fog “Help… me.”_

* * *

Snorting and yelping with fright, the boy flailed awake. In a rush of senses, the world slowly pieced itself back together around him. Hideous purple and yellow seat pattern. The steady rhythmic trundling of wheels against pavement. The chattering of children congregated around one low buzzing handheld console. He glanced around, suddenly feeling foolish. Of course. It was just a dream.

Rubbing at his dry eyes and moistening his chapped lips, he looked out at the kaleidoscope of colours passing him by out of the bus window. How long had he been asleep for? Where was he? Nothing looked familiar here. The last thing he remembered was getting on the bus to… where was it again? Something… harbour?

His neck cricked in complaint as he turned it from side to side. His bag and half-eaten chocolate bar were still there, that was good news. An entirely unfamiliar landscape greeted him outside of the window however. The bus had just turned off of the highway and was making its way down more suburban looking streets. Blocks upon blocks of lifeless residential buildings, all in the same pastel shades of green, blue and orange. Just then, a loudspeaker screeched itself into existence;

“Atten… ev… one, we’ll s…. app…”

There was another screech as the loudspeaker was cut off again.

“Urgh, dammit,” the same voice spoke out aloud. “Attention everyone. The damn tannoy ain’t workin’ properly, so I’m just gonna have to shout at youse all. Lissen up. We’re approachin’ Bog Harbour. Those wishin’ to get off at Bog Harbour get yourselves ready, ya hear?”

Bog Harbour? That fit the bill. This place was as good as any… right?

The bus slowly rattled to a halt and the boy could feel his heart sink into his stomach. Who was he kidding? He couldn’t even convince himself that this place was worth his time. But his parents had insisted that he go, stay with this obscure relative of theirs because… reasons. Reasons he either didn’t know or didn’t bother to listen to. It didn’t matter. Not in the long run, anyway. But he got the gist of it. Go stay with an obscure relative for a year, see how the other half live, go make friends! All that motivational poster crap.

The boy sighed. This was going to be a long year. He wasn’t even off the bus and he hated it already. With a grumble, he collected his few belongings that were scattered around him, and rose to two shaky feet. As every other person on the bus began staring at him, it became quickly apparent that he was the _only_ person getting off at this stop. Well that was encouraging. What next?

His legs were numb from all that sitting.  The last thing he needed was to fall on his face in front of all these people. He stomped down the aisle of the bus, refusing to look at anyone. Even the driver regarded him with an expression that somehow managed to be both glassy eyed _and_ stern. Did anyone actually want to be here?

“Best of luck, kid.” The driver deadpanned at him as he dismounted the last step. He snorted once, took a lengthy draft of what looked like an energy drink, and then closed the door. The bus farted out a lungful of black smoke as it spluttered away, leaving the boy alone at the bus stop in an unfamiliar town.

If there was ever a situation where the phrase “At least it can’t get any worse” was made for, this was it. The young man waited no longer than five solitary seconds before his attention was drawn to the side of the road.

 “Well hello there!”

 Speaking to him from a golf cart of all things was a man in the brightest white suit he had ever seen in his life. “You must be errm… yes, you must… be! Come here why don’t you? Say hello to your second cousin’s step…uncle! You can call me Calvin!”

The boy frowned, and turned around. There wasn’t anyone behind him. Or nearby. The closest person was a bored looking man in a tracksuit loitering by an alley doorway. Then it dawned. The weirdo was definitely talking to him.

“Oh, now there’s no need to be alarmed!” It kept talking. “You are here to help me redeem myself for a certain… misdemeanour, correct? I have some paperwork in here… somewhere… that you’ll need to sign for me! Could you do that?”

The guy shuffled around in his golf cart for a pen and sheet of paper, before pushing the both of them onto the boy. “Therrre, you go! A thing! You should sign it, oh and print your name as well please! Just in case!”

The boy grumbled. This was already a pain. But, however bad this guy was, he _was_ giving him a place to stay for the next year. That was worth a signature at least. With another short sigh, he found a hard surface, and scribbled out a signature onto the paper before handing it back.

“Why, thank you Ken, err… Shi…?” The man – Calvin, apparently – squinted at the sheet of paper. “…Ken! A marvellous name that I certainly remembered! Your signature, while barely legible, is much appreciated! And now I believe we should head onwards to my… _our_ mansion. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Ken glanced over to the man in his golf cart. There was room for him, and nothing more. Exactly how was he supposed to go with the guy? Chase after him?

But then he saw the sidecar and groaned.

“C’mon, Ken m’boy! I had this installed especially for you!” Calvin tapped on the metal shell twice. “After all, how would I prove that I am a fit caregiver otherwise? She’s a bit slow with the extra weight, but we’ll manage I’m sure! Plus, there’s a bonus; croissants!”

Suddenly Ken was missing the bus. But this man was his legal guardian for the foreseeable future. So in the sidecar he went. It was literally just an eggshell of hollowed out metal with a solitary cushion for ‘comfort’, but it was an improvement on walking, that was for sure.

At least until it moved, anyway. Golf carts weren’t exactly known for their speed, but this thing was so slow that they would’ve gotten there faster by walking. To make things worse, the sight of him and Calvin in the golf cart, speeding down the high street at maybe three miles an hour, became quite the spectacle for locals;

“Who’s that with Mr Fischoeder?”

“He hasn’t kidnapped _another_ kid, has he?”

“Sshh, quiet! You don’t want him to raise your rent do ya?!”

Meanwhile Calvin, the reason he was attracting all this attention, was buttering a croissant against the dashboard of his golf cart.

“Hum, de-dum… oh, I curse you for convincing me to get those racing stripes, Felix,” he muttered to no one. “Because they most certainly are _not_ working! Why, as punishment I’ll have to be-“

Suddenly his eyes widened, and he turned to face Ken without as much as a change of expression, like something out of a horror movie.

“Oh, Felix would be my brother! You’ll meet him soon enough.” He spoke, before returning his attention to his croissant. “Note to self, bring more butter next time.”

The roads were painfully quiet as Ken and Calvin snailed along in the golf cart. Ken was bored within minutes, but he at least got to check around town as they passed. The mailman, who looked like he was about to sweep a handful of letters into the sewer with his foot, suddenly gasped and picked them back up with a flourish as he and Calvin rounded the corner.

“Oh silly me, such a butterfingers…” He laughed at nothing, “O-oh, good afternoon, Mr Fischoeder. You feelin’ fine today?”

“Oh, rather adequate… mailman.” Calvin’s voice was suddenly harsher. “Ken, this is the local mailman, whose name escapes me.”

“…Mike,” the mailman deadpanned. “And pleased to meetcha, kiddo.”

He offered a hand as they rolled past, which Ken supposed he had to shake.

“Ahh, of course,” Calvin nodded. “Well, I’m sure you understand how mail works, Ken. Should you order something, Mike here will deliver it to you!”

“That’s m’job,” Mike the mailman’s smile stretched thin. “You’ll have to disable your security system if you want it in one piece though, Mr Fish.”

“Non-sense!” Calvin laughed him off. “How else would Frank get his exercise?!”

“Release him back to Africa where he belongs?” Mike said.

“Hah!” Calvin’s laugh grew louder. “As if!”

He caught Ken’s eye once again, and explained. “Frank is my security ostrich. He runs the tightest ship I’ve ever known! But I’m afraid he does make a _frightful_ mess!”

What felt like hours had passed since they left the bus stop, en route at last to what could only be described as a palace. The sun was setting by the time they’d reached the garden, and the towering structure in the distance was an intimidating sight contrasted against the dusk. The sheer size… it must’ve had at _least_ thirty rooms.

“Well, this would be the place,” Calvin offered a wry smile as he brought his golf cart to a clunky stop. “Fischoeder Mansion! That’s my last name, just so you know. But you needn’t use it, Ken. Only tenants call me that!”

Ken nodded. What else was there to do but be polite?

After muttering a quick thank you to Calvin, he collected his belongings, and wandered into the complex in search of somewhere that looked like a bedroom. All sorts of bizarre sights greeted him on his way through; medieval suits of armour, several marble busts of… some celebrity chef, a gong, a standing fire…

Finally, a bedroom. Or at least what could have passed for one. Ken had seen enough for today. He pushed his case into one corner, and fell backwards onto the four poster bed. He would’ve commented on how soft and comfortable it all was, were the light and warmth not suddenly drained out of the room.

It felt like he was just about to drift into the familiar embrace of sleep, when _something_ changed in the room. The temperature plummeted but still, Ken broke out into a vicious sweat.

A chillingly familiar voice. “We meet again.”

Ken sat bolt upright only to meet the sight of the Cheshire Cat grin that could only belong to Igor.


	3. You Had Me At Three

 

Ken jerked awake as the unholy screeching of an alarm clock ripped through his eardrums. The mocking green face showed him 6:30 in the _morning._

Hang on. When did he even set an alarm?

Questions tumbling around his mind, he was able to banish them – momentarily – with a sudden banging at the door.

“Good morning, Ken! It’s me, Calvin! I trust you slept well?”

It didn’t take Ken long to put two and two together. That weirdo of a temporary guardian of his must have snuck an alarm clock into his room at some point last night. While he was sleeping. An involuntary shudder crept down Ken’s spine. No, there was nothing worrying about that at all…

Calvin, unperturbed by Ken’s silence, continued to witter on. Ken found he had never been more grateful for a door – and a lock – in all his life.

“I’ll take the silence as a yes! Why, I wish all children were this easy to communicate with! I appreciate that the alarm clock may have woken you a bit earlier than you may appreciate, however we have a busy day ahead of us! After all, it is time for you to start at your new school!”

School…?

Ken instantly felt himself deflate. So this wasn’t just a yearlong vacation.

“…I guess.”

“Grand! I like your enthusiasm!” Calvin remained as oblivious as ever. “I’ll meet you downstairs for breakfast in…ah... soon! Yes, soon!”

Ken waited until he was sure Calvin had padded away – then gave it five more minutes to be sure. He hadn’t brought a lot of clothes with him – logoed t-shirts, jean shorts, the usual stuff boys his age enjoyed. But suddenly, looking at it all laid out in front of him – Don’t Eat Yellow Snow, To Err is Human and To Arr is Pirate…  Ken felt very young and very foolish.

Eventually deciding on clothes that wouldn’t offend him, or anybody else for that matter, Ken freshened up in the first bathroom he came across. Stumbling downstairs, he found Calvin already impeccably dressed in what was either the _same_ pure white suit he wore yesterday, or an exact duplicate.

 “Now now, Frank, do calm down,” the man chuckled, holding a large bowl at arm’s length as an absolute monster of an ostrich lurched through the open window.

Ken watched in a bizarre combination of fascination and alarm. Calvin had somehow strapped one of those rotating police lights to the poor thing’s head, which was flashing about all over the place as it impaled the veritable mountain of seed Calvin had provided.

“My, you are making a _mess_ , Frank.” He tutted the giant bird as more seeds and pellets flew everywhere. “Ah Ken, perfect timing! I should introduce you to Frank! I mentioned him yesterday remember?”

Frank the ostrich lifted its head out of the bowl of seed, and snorted. It turned to face him slowly, and Ken could’ve sworn it was glaring. Despite his best efforts, the cold stare did send a shiver down his spine.

“There are occasions when I’m not available to feed dear Frank here, so I may have to rely on you for that. I’d be ever so grateful if you could, Ken? Whaddya say?”

Ken felt his foot betray him and take half a step away. How was he going to feed that thing without losing a limb? It looked… murderous.

“Before you ask, I can _not_ ask my brother Felix to feed him. The two haven’t gotten along ever since the eggbeater incident…” Calvin explained. “So perhaps you’ll be able to ease my burden, dear boy. But enough about that! I’m sure you’ll do wonderfully. Onto breakfast!”

Frank the ostrich released a weird sort of purring noise, knocked over his bowl, and then took off in a flurry of feathers to somewhere else on the grounds. Ken simply shook his head at the giant dumb creature as it fully disappeared behind an obviously disregarded hedge.

Trying to put thoughts of eggbeaters, murderous ostriches and clones of white suits as far out of his head as he could, Ken dutifully followed in Calvin’s footsteps. If he was a different kind of kid, one who cared about his surroundings, he probably would have been somewhat intimidated by the long, sprawling corridors, immaculately polished and garnished with paintings of long dead Fischoeder relatives. Probably.

After what felt like an age, Ken emerged into a dining room. Well, it could have been anything, really. A grand hall for a banquet was probably more apt. After all, the table in it was about half a mile long, and loaded with entirely too much food for two people to eat in a day, forget one sitting.

“Ah, you found me. Excellent!” Calvin called from the other side of the table. “Please, do help yourself to whatever you wish from this spread. I have all the things a young boy like yourself should enjoy for breakfast, including pizza, ice cream, and chicken nuggets! Scores of chicken nuggets! Though I’m afraid we’ll have to eat on the move today, young Ken! Otherwise we won’t have time to get you registered!”

Ken sighed. So he was serious about sending him to a school. What were the kids in this dingy, backwater town even like? He hadn’t yet seen one, forget spoken to one.

But nevertheless, he had to do what his temporary guardian said. So he grabbed a couple of pop tarts – they seemed like a sensible option – and followed Calvin out of the building, where it took another excruciating ride in the golf cart back towards the town itself.

The sun had properly risen by the time they arrived, and Ken had heard enough rumours about Calvin (or ‘Mr Fischoeder’ to the locals) to last a lifetime. What kind of shady dealings did one have to participate in for a town to be this scared of him?

“Here we are, Wagstaff School!” Calvin announced to the immediate area with his arms spread out wide. “This is the institution in which you shall learn… things, for the next year! Are ya excited, Ken?”

“…sure,” Ken clambered out of the sidecar. If it gave him back some sense of normality in his life, then he supposed it wasn’t so bad.

“I may have to pull some strings… yes, I believe that’s the ‘hip’ phrase you youngsters use nowadays,” Calvin said, “But if all goes well, you may even be able to start today! Wouldn’t that be _swell_?”

Calvin threw his half-eaten croissant over his shoulder, where it landed squarely on the driver’s seat, and led the way into the building. Upon his flourish through the front doors, once again the gaggle of students traversing the hallways turned to stare at him. As if he’d drained all of the colour from the surroundings, what Ken could presume was a tired, Wednesday-ish sort of atmosphere had been replaced with a cold, sterile one. Like the doctor was about to tell you some bad news.

And Calvin paid absolutely no heed of this. Were he used to it or wilfully ignorant, Ken wasn’t sure. But all of the kids shuffling out of their way was convenient. That much he had to be thankful for.

* * *

“G-good morning, Mr Fischoeder,” a particularly hapless looking man greeted Calvin with a sweaty handshake. “I… I see you’ve brought a young man with you. May I ask… why?”

“I’m starting an improvised hip hop group, and was looking for talented youngsters!” Calvin dropped both hands onto the desk separating them. “…you foolish fool. Care to hazard a guess?”

“Okay, okay…” the man dabbed at his forehead. “You want to… enrol him?”

“Yes, and I’d like to have him start today.” Calvin smiled.

“T-today?” the man spluttered, “But that’s not possible, M-Mr Fischoeder sir! We need to run things through administration, and inform Principal Spoors, a-and-”

“I’d really appreciate it if you could.”

“B-but-”

“Very much so.”

“…right!” the sweaty man spluttered. “Well I guess we could work out the details at a later date, couldn’t we? Hello there, young man! I’m Mr Frond, and I’m the school’s councillor. The school’s Principal Spoors couldn’t be here today, so I’m afraid you’ll have to put up with me instead. But don’t worry! I don’t bite!”

This Mr Frond tittered nervously, and took great care in shifting a collection of crocheted dolls from his desk before sitting at it. “S-so, could I ask that you sign this? Any other legalities will be taken care of with your… guardian? A-another time. So just sign this, and we’ll get you into class!”

Once again, Ken found himself signing his name away. The ink was still glistening when Mr Frond whisked it from him, and beckoned the lad to follow.

“So you’re how old, Ken? About eleven I’m guessing?” He asked, walking briskly.

Ken nodded.

“Speak up, please!”

“…yeah.”

“Good good, Sixth Grade. We can work with thaaaat. Let’s see if we can squeeze you into… _this_ class!”

The cheap wooden door rattled as Mr Frond merely pushed it open, and cleared his throat. “Ahem, Ms. Twitchell, if I could have a moment?”

At the front of the classroom, a tall lady with dark hair drawn back into a long ponytail had obviously been in the middle of something, and frowned at him.

“Why good morning, Mr Frond. I guess you can, if it’s important enough to interrupt homeroom.”

“E-heh, sorry,” Mr Frond tittered again. “I just… I’m a little nervous this morning, because-”

“Your important thing, Mr Frond?”

“…oh yes!” Frond remembered himself. “Ahem! I have, uhh, this boy here! His name is Ken, and starting today he’ll be in your homeroom class! Okay, okay bye!”

Before Ken could even register Frond shunting him into the room, the man had turned tail and fled down the hallway. Ken supposed arguing with him wasn’t a likely scenario.

“Well then…” Ms. Twitchell just let her gesturing hands flop down in obvious exasperation. “Ken, was it? I won’t force you to introduce yourself if you don’t want to. Just go and find a seat, honey.”

With a quick nod to the teacher, Ken glanced across the classroom to locate an empty seat. There was the one in the back corner, the front centre, or the one on the third row near the window. Windows were good. You could get distracted by them.

Third row it was. Ken kept his head high, avoiding the glaring stares of other pupils on his way to his new seat. He had no books, no pens, no… anything, really, but he was at school now. He was going to have to run with this for at least the next few hours.

And no sooner had the chair squeaked under his weight had the whispering started. Ever since his meeting with Calvin, they’d been practically constant. Maybe it was time to start blanking them out like white noise. They’d be a lot easier to ignore that way.

Suddenly a new surprise was pushed under his nose. It wasn’t nearly _as_ unpleasant as the awful rumours that had already started spreading about him – apparently his parents were cannibals now? – but it was still pretty unexpected.

“Take it!” A voice hissed from exactly one chair behind to the right. Ken looked down at the ‘offering’ and frowned; a cold mincemeat taco? Of all things?

With a shrug, Ken accepted the taco, and turned to face whoever gave it to him. Teetering dangerously on one chair leg was a chubby young boy with thick black hair and a bright yellow shirt.

“I’m Gene!” The boy whisper-yelled across the divide. “Welcome to Wagstaff! Enjoy your honorary Taco Tuesday Taco!”

Confusion struck like a slap to the face. But it was Wednesday. Why was he being given a taco from yesterday?

Ah well. It was free food, at least.

Ken gave this Gene a short thanks, just as Ms. Twitchell was wrapping up her homeroom speech.

“Well that should cover it!” She said. “Someone, please help Ken find his way around the school, and have a good day, kids. I want you on your best behaviours, got it?”

There was a murmuring of agreement from the gaggle of kids, and a shrill bell rang shortly after. Must’ve been time for first lesson. How exactly was he going to blag his way through this entire day?

* * *

Shockingly, the day seemed over before he knew it. It seemed that none of the staff cared that there was a new kid in their classes who possessed none of the required materials to learn the things they were teaching. It probably wasn’t the best idea to rely on that first day luck, though. Ken made a mental note to pick himself up at least a pen and something to write in. Calvin probably had some just lying around.

“So, how was your first day here, Ken?” That Gene kid from earlier slapped a hand on his back, as if they were best friends already.

“…good I guess,” Ken mumbled. “Not sure I really learned anything.”

“All the better!” Gene grinned. “We _try_ not to learn anything here. Education? What is _that_ noise?”

Gene led Ken through the school’s twisted hallways and out of the building itself, where fresh air and sunlight greeted his skin at last.

“Oh, Gene, there you are.”

Standing at the steps outside were two young girls that both bore a striking resemblance to Gene. One obviously older, with the thick glasses and visible awkwardness of a teenager attempting to find her own way in life, and one younger, with a bright green dress and pink bunny-ear hat. All three shared the same dark glossy hair.

“Yeah, where’ve you been all day?!” the younger one cried. “Burnt fishsticks in the cafeteria, and no Gene?!”

“Burnt fishsticks come and go, Louise! Gene didn’t miss a beat. “But new kids are forever! This is Ken! He is my friend now!”

“…oh. Well that’s alright, I guess,” Louise fiddled with her dress, “You better not brainwash our brother into learning and contributing to society, you hear me Ken?”

Ken frowned, and looked to Gene.

“She likes you.” He grinned back. “So, you like food, Ken? We know a place!”

“We live there,” the older sister smiled.

“Don’t tell him _that_ , Tina!” Louise screamed at her in protest.

“…either way!” Gene brought conversation back. “Come with us, Ken! Your company would be greatly appreciated! Mother would adore you!”

“…sorry, I can’t tonight.” Ken shook his head.

“Well walk with us then! We can part ways!” Gene’s enthusiasm was infectious. Despite himself, Ken found a smile escape his depths. With a nod, he agreed, and followed the three siblings through the town, where they separated outside a run-down looking restaurant.

“Seeya tomorrow, Ken!” Gene called, hanging half out of the door. Ken sighed, feeling the happiness and warmth evaporate from his body as he turned to face the intimidating sight of Fischoeder mansion in the distance.

“How the other half live, huh?” He chuckled to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's, people. Here's another update for the... three of you reading this. Nothing too fancy here, just a bit more worldbuilding and location stuff, but hey. Update. 
> 
> Feel free to send feedback if you've got any opinions. Over and out!


	4. Fools Rush In

Of all the issues Ken expected to come up against after his move here, having reasonable access to a pen was not the one he thought would give him the most trouble. After Calvin disappeared into the bowels of the mansion that night, Ken took his chance. It took a good few hours but eventually he came across a substantial horde of pens – all branded identically from what looked like a shady pottery business – hidden in the fireplace of a converted guest room.

Life’s supply of free pens acquired and stashed carefully in the corner, Ken finally settled down for the night. But his sleep was fragmented – interrupted several times by the ghost of a grin lurking in the far corner.  When he blearily blinked awake the following morning, thankfully without Calvin’s wakeup call, he reasoned perhaps he might need to swap rooms.

Breakfast was another needlessly extravagant affair. When Ken trudged downstairs, Calvin was bent over the breakfast table, an entire grapefruit speared at the end of his fork.

“So, you feel like you’re getting to know the town, Ken?”

“I’ve been here two days.” No one could learn the ins and outs of a town that quickly, could they? Maybe Calvin actually did have standards…

“Ahh, very true,”Calvin was now slicing chunks off of his grapefruit with a carving knife. Ken tried not to watch. “Either way, I figure the best way for you to learn would be to get out there and explore it, yes? So you would be comfortable making your own way to school and back from now on?”

Ken shrugged. This town was designed like a giant waffle. Blocks upon blocks upon blocks of right-angle corners and crossroads. It would take some serious dedication to get lost here. “I guess.”

“Grand!” Calvin beamed, “I like a lad that gets stuck in! Really gives me hope for the next generation! And speaking of getting stuck in, would you mind feeding Frank for me? I would, but I’m afraid my hands are occupied with tiny fruit!”

Ken looked up from his fruity-o’s – he only picked them because the spoon that came with said ‘cereal killer’ – and noted that Calvin’s attention was being held hostage by a mobile phone. His sliced grapefruit now lay abandoned on the kitchen table – replaced by… pixelled fruit? His fingers zipped across the screen and Ken saw images of fruit sliced, diced and chopped go flying in a bizarre barrage of colours.

Ken’s cereal had gone soggy. He looked around for a bin, even just a sink to place it into. He had the vague idea he would come back to it later. But there was nothing. Nothing he could see, anyway…

“Don’t worry about the cleaning, Ken. My maid Inga will get that for you at some point or another. Probably. Frank’s feeding bowl should be in the kitchen.”

Calvin was still immersed in his dumb game, so Ken shrugged, and placed his bowl back on the endless table. The enormous bowl of seeds and pellets waited for him ominously in the next room, so it was all just a matter of getting it, and taking it to the hulking ostrich… wherever it was.

No sooner had Ken wrenched the bowl off of the kitchen countertop, was there a shrill squawk followed by the stomping of feet. Ken barely had time to turn around before a pair of beady eyes were staring him down outside a nearby window.

“Ohh, it appears Frank has spotted you!” Calvin didn’t take his eyes off his phone. “He is quite wary of strangers Ken, so I would be too. But you have his food. And there is no better way to an ostrich’s heart than with food! Mr Tom Hanks can verify that!”

Ken gulped. Like that one scene out of _Jurassic Park_ that had haunted him for years, Frank the ostrich snorted against the window, leaving a trail of condensation. That thing could end his life in seconds if it wanted. And he was supposed to _feed_ it?

Ah well. He’d had a good life. And at least “mauled by an ostrich” would give somebody in the morgue a chuckle.

Ken nervously stepped towards the window. The beady eyes of the ostrich outside never left him. The idea that only a thin pane of glass separated him from 260 pounds of pure rage and muscle was enough to set him trembling. Eventually, he slid the window open. Frank dashed his neck through the open gap with the speed of a bullet. Ken’s arms nearly buckled under the weight as the ostrich pecked at the full bowl of seed like a drill. It was over in seconds and Frank disappeared back into the depths of the garden.

 “Atta lad!” Calvin called from the other room. “You’ve not been injured, I hope? Good, that means he likes you!”

With a roll of his eyes, Ken plonked the heavy bowl down on the nearest surface. He could feel a rush of energy from within, soothing his manic heart rate and lifting his spirit. A tiny stab of bravery sure did wonders for one’s morale.

“And now I suppose it’s time for you to be toodle-ooing, isn’t it?” Calvin walked into the room, mobile phone in hand. “A thanks is in order for your help, dear Ken. And on that front, I award you with this!”

From the breast pocket of his suit Calvin retrieved… another mobile phone?

“Staying in contact is imperative in our day and age, Ken, and it shows the world that I am a suitable guardian by remaining in contact with you,” Calvin handed him the phone. It was one of the latest models, with the touch screen and everything, too. “You needn’t worry about adding me – I’ve already done that part! But I do request that you play _Salad Samurai_ with me on occasion! It’s deadly fun!”

Ken looked over _his new phone._ The only other one he’d ever had was one of those ancient flip models, so this was a huge step in the best direction. Calvin had attached one of those plastic cases to it already – with a picture of Frank the ostrich on it, how charming – and just like he’d said, his name and number were already listed in the contacts list.

“Now, I shouldn’t need to tell you how to use a phone, should I Ken?” Calvin wittered. “After all, this is the technology of your generation! Kids these days are practically _born_ with cell phones, eye-pogs, and wee…fee? Anyway! If you need to get a hold of me for any reason, do feel free to call!”

“Sure thing, Calvin.” Ken muttered, and shouldered his schoolbag. “…thanks for the phone.”

If Calvin had even uttered a response, Ken didn’t hear it. After navigating the endless hallways to exit the building, there was only the matter of Frank dashing past him like a blur before he left the grounds to contend with.  He had to jump the fence to avoid the crane-like neck of the monstrous bird.

Tracing his way backwards from yesterday, Ken weaved his way through the many streets of the unfamiliar dingy town. For all his bravado earlier, when it came to actually navigating the streets, it was quite easy to second guess himself. Relying on what little he could remember, the ocean breezes, the bus stop Calvin had picked him up from, the giant carnival in the distance, he slowly pieced together a route he _hoped_ would bring him to school.

Following these clues as they cropped up, Ken somehow found himself outside the very restaurant the Gene and those other two had entered yesterday. Was this where they lived? Did they sleep on the restaurant floor or was there some sort of… living quarters upstairs? Ken very suddenly felt grateful for the many rooms of the Fischoeder mansion

Waiting for them was probably a good idea. Assuming they hadn’t left already. They went to the same school, so it was the polite thing to do. He and Gene were even in a lot of the same classes, so it would be silly to just walk straight past and shun the companionship. Even if they were weird.

Ken pressed his face against the window of the restaurant. The man behind the counter was determinedly rubbing at something on the countertop with a washcloth, and aside from one guy wearing a beanie hat opposite him, the place was empty.

With a bell’s tinkle, Ken found himself walking into the restaurant. Immediately his senses were assaulted by the pungent stench of grease, fried meat and… grilled cheese?

Both of the men in the restaurant turned to face Ken as he entered. The moustached one behind the counter stared for just a moment longer than he should’ve, and even took a step back.

“Err… hi there,” he spoke, dropping the washcloth and paying Ken some attention. “What can… I getcha?”

Ken took his moment to look around. The place was a bit less run down and shabby from the _inside_. Classic red and yellow colour scheme, with a good balance of bar stools and booths, could maybe seat twenty something people, though he was seriously doubting there had ever been that many people in here at once.

“Umm…” Ken stammered. Gene and those other two did live here… right?

“If you’re looking for recommendations, our Burger of the Day is the ‘Ehh, Macaroni’,” the man behind the counter chuckled. “It comes with a layer of mac and cheese. Sound good?”

It was only then that Ken noticed the chalkboard. It looked as if it had been erased and re-written on hundreds, if not thousands of times, and today’s ‘special’, apparently was a burger with mac and cheese in it? Was that really a thing here? Was it really a thing _anywhere_?

“Hmm, maybe not,” the man seemed to notice Ken’s expression. “You are here for… food, right?”

“I am always here for food, father!” A familiar voice burst into the room. “Oh, hey there Ken! You remembered where I live!”

“You didn’t shut up about it on the way home yesterday. How could he forget?” The little one with the bunny ears chided. What was her name again?

“Who remembered?” The older sister with the equally forgotten name chipped in. “Who’s… oh.”

Her glasses shone as she locked eyes with Ken, and suddenly the eldest of the trio withdrew into herself, then looked away.

“Wait, you all know him?” The man behind the counter asked.

“He’s my new friend from school!” Gene threw an arm around Ken’s shoulders.

“Yeah _dad_ , stop trying to take him away! STOP STEALING GENE’S FRIENDS!” Bunny ears yelled.

“Louise…” their dad groaned. So _that_ was her name…

“Bobby…!” Another voice called from the hallway. Onto the restaurant floor walked a tall woman with ostentatious red glasses, and the same jet black bangs as all of her kids. “The delivery’s here! Gonna get it?”

“Already?” ‘Bobby’s eyebrows knotted together. “…alright, I got it. Kids, go to school.”

“We’re going!” Louise screeched back at him. “What, you think we’re just standin’ here, stalling for time?!”

“Isn’t that kinda… what you’re doing, Louise?” The eldest one said.

“Tina…!”

Another name remembered.

“You guys should listen to your father,” the other voice, presumably their mother, said as she came onto the restaurant floor. “Otherwise you’ll be l-heyyyyy…!”

She and all of her tallness got down onto one knee, and looked Ken in the eye. “Hey there, stranger! You friends with my little babies?!”

“Mo-ommmm…!” Louise sounded even more annoyed now, tugging at the hem of her bunny ears and pouting.

“And there’s my babiest baby…!” The mother cooed. “Come here, give your mommy a hug!”

Louise made a screeching sound, not unlike that of a startled bird. Before Ken could so much as register movement, she was already halfway out the door.

“I’ll take that hug!” Gene volunteered, and was smothered immediately by arms.

“Mmmm, mwah mwah mwah mwah!” The mother planted about a dozen kisses on Gene’s forehead. “Alright you three, have a good day at school! And you,” she turned to face Ken. “Any friend of the kids is a friend of Linda’s!”

“That’s her,” Tina pointed to her mother.

“OBVIOUS, TINA!” Louise shrieked.

“KIDS, GO TO SCHOOL!” Bobby yelled from somewhere in the back.

“WE’RE GOING TO SCHOOL!” Louise hollered in retort.

“WELL GO FASTER!”

“FINE!” Louise exited the building and began stomping down the path to the right.

“We… better go follow her,” Tina walked out the door next.

“Alrighty then.” Gene shrugged. “C’mon Ken, let’s go _learn_ things!”

“Ken? That’s your name?” Linda smiled at him. “Alright Ken, you be good to my Genie.”

In a surprise move, she wrapped her long skinny arms around Ken and hugged him. “Such lovely hair…” Ken heard her mumble as he followed Gene out of the door. A positive thing. About him. That was a first.

On their arrival back at Wagstaff, the first thing Ken noticed however was that his lovely seat by the window, with all its distraction and see-through-ness, was taken. By some ash-blonde girl Ken didn’t recognise from yesterday.

“H-hi Gene,” she slurped on her necklace, “How are you to-hey, who’s your friend?”

“Hello, Courtney,” Gene’s voice instantly dipped. “This is Ken. He’s new here, and he’s _my_ friend, not yours.”

“Hello Ken,” this Courtney gave him a little wave.

“You’ll have to take one of the other seats, buddy,” Gene said. “That one’s hers. She just wasn’t here yesterday.”

Ken shrugged. “Fair enough.”

And the usual hushed whispers began flocking about as Ken made his way to the spare seat two behind Gene. Nothing he wasn’t used to, of course, but these kids were acting fast, even for gossip-mongers. Maybe there wasn’t much to do in this town. Even so, he got the usual slew, including,

“What’s with the hair? Who just _dyes_ their hair gold?”

“The red eyes too? What are they, contacts?”

“He’s like some kinda, ghost…”

But aside from a few furtive glances from that Courtney girl, nothing much happened in Homeroom. Science class came however, and the ponytailed teacher – also the school’s gym coach, apparently – was quick to test his knowledge.

“Alright, who to ask…” he tapped a pen against his lips. “How ‘bout you, new kid? What percentage of the planet is water?”

Ken flinched as if he were struck by lightning. Already the eyes were upon him, ready to pounce on his inevitable failure. It sucked being the new kid.

But a sneaky thumbs up from Gene in the corner of his eye gave him courage.

“Uhh… seventy?”

Coach Blevins narrowed his eyes. And then smiled.

“Close enough, I’ll accept it.”

A wave of relief washed over Ken, and he could feel the clamminess just dissolve away as the usual gossiping continued. This time however they seemed more positive,

“Wow, the new kid’s actually smart?”

“Did he read that somewhere? No one just knows that, right?”

“Does he need a study partner?”

Ken allowed himself a secret smile before lowering his gaze and getting stuck into the work that was set for them.

* * *

Rumours seemed to be the flavour of the month in the school halls. Some were typical and benign, like that Mr Frond guy knitting all of his dolls so that he had someone to talk to, or that the school receptionist let a burrito explode in the microwave because she couldn’t reach it from her chair. But some seemed a lot more despairing, like the kid in Gene’s year – Peter something or other – who apparently disappeared?

“Yeah, apparently the cops are clueless,” Ken heard one student whisper to another in the lunch hall, where he, Gene and his siblings ate together. Gene seemed overjoyed at the thought of hotdogs, but Ken dismissed this as a normal occurrence, because surely this wasn’t the first time he’d seen hotdogs. Louise was quick to affirm Ken’s cynicism, and Ken was forever grateful that the rest of the school day was over quickly. At least with a pen and couple of books he was able to take notes, and that made the lessons go so much quicker when you didn’t have to stare out of the window for entertainment.

“Another day over!” Gene shouted as he charged out of the school gates, “and then there’s only one more day, and it’s the weekend! Any plans, Ken?”

“…don’t know yet,” Ken answered as honestly as he could. Who could make plans with Calvin ‘looking after’ him? The man was about as consistent as a roll of a dice.

“I see!” Gene was still peppy despite it all. “Well, in any case, if you need somewhere to hang out, why not at our place? Mom already likes you, and you’ve got us!”

“And we’re awesome.” Louise had appeared out of nowhere.

“We are?” Tina was right on her heels.

“Well maybe not you, Tina.”

“Ohh…”

“Anyway Gene, what’re you doing inviting strange people around our house?”

“We could _never_ have enough strangers in our house!” Gene flounced his way across the playpark.

“We are pretty strange,” Tina concurred. Louise shrugged in what Ken had to guess was agreement.

“Anyway Ken, grab a pen!” Gene had suddenly pulled back the leg of his pants, “Oop, wrong leg! Here, write your number so we can call you!”

“And text.” Tina added.

“And ignore,” came Louise.

“You’ve got a phone, right?” Gene’s eyes widened.

“Uhh… yeah.” Ken suddenly remembered. After scrolling through all the settings to find out what it was, he tried in vain to scrawl the number onto Gene’s leg.

“A-ha! Gotcha!” The boy smirked. “Well, I’ll contact you later on tonight, okay Ken?”

Gene slapped Ken on the back in some makeshift means of appreciation, and Ken could feel a strange warmth radiate from within. Light a pulsating burst of something he couldn’t quite grasp, he felt his whole body lighten, almost as if lifted by something. But then all the happiness suddenly turned chilling, when an all too familiar voice began speaking directly to his mind, it seemed;

_“I am thou,_

_Thou art I,_

_Thou hast acquired a new vow,_

_It shall become the wings of rebellion that breaketh thy chains of uncertainty,_

_With the birth of the Fool Persona, I have obtained the winds of blessing that shall lead to freedom and new power…”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of Chapter Stats:
> 
> You have been able to feed Frank the Ostrich. Your Courage has increased!
> 
> You got the question correct! Your Knowledge has increased!
> 
> Your Fool Rank is currently at: One.
> 
> Acquired: Cell Phone.
> 
> This is something that I'll be posting with each subsequent chapter. Should help bring some clarity to things.


	5. Crate Expectations

As the words chimed in his head, a flare of goose bumps prickled across his skin and Ken found himself wide awake. Ahead of him, almost luminescent in the dark, he picked out the maniacal grin of the man he had come to know all too well.

“Good e-vening,” Igor spoke, his sonorous voice seemed to fill every inch of Ken’s body and the darkness around them. “I have summoned you back here. Be not afraid, you’re still asleep. I am merely contacting you via your subconscious.”

Igor’s words made next to no sense to Ken. Like a jigsaw puzzle with a million pieces, he wondered how the hell it all fit together so he could understand it. Instead, he took in his surroundings. That same exact Ferris wheel from when these nightmares first started. But in so much more detail than before. His senses seemed heightened, he could pick out every crack of the cheap leather seats, and every wrinkle in Igor’s aged skin. It frightened him for reasons he didn’t truly understand.

 “It seems as though you have forged a bond, dear boy. And because of that, the wheels of fate have begun turning.” Igor explained.

“A bond?” Ken croaked out. “You mean…that boy from before?”

Another voice chimed in Ken’s mind. “ _He’s new here and he’s my friend!”_ Gene’s face came to him and he felt a faint warmth in the fluttering of his heart.

“Indeed.” Igor seemed to be choosing his words carefully. “Can you hear his voice now?”

“Yes…” Ken’s voice was barely a whisper.

“The strength of your bonds will determine your potential. Can you hear them reaching out to you?”

Ken’s mind was invaded with voices. Chattering and bubbling like boiling water, they consumed his thoughts. He couldn’t pick any out that he recognised.

“Each one’s power is limited. But bring them together, and well… you have the potential to do great things. Of course, whether you wish to take control of it is entirely your choice. But either way. I shall be keeping my eye on you.”

Reeling from the voices, Ken felt his stomach churn and his body weaken. The last thing he heard was Igor’s voice ringing, clear as a bell, above the din of chatter.

“Farewell.”

 Ken’s surroundings melted away, the voices ceased, and he was left only with the impression of the manic grin, stamped in the darkness before him.

Hours passed. Ken’s slumbering fell back into a peaceful rhythm until the sun peeked over the horizon, bathing the sleepy town in hues of tangerine and pink. Fridays were good days. Reminders that the battle was almost over, a single eight hours now separating you from two days of blissful freedom.

Yet, as Ken quickly found out, that knowledge made it no easier to get up. His back grumbled in protest – you would think Calvin for all his riches could afford a better mattress - as he pulled on some clothes, barely caring for what they were. Forget colour, brand, logo… Clean was as good as it got on a Friday.

Yawning and stretching to negotiate his aching limbs into use, Ken trudged down the stairs into the dining room. The usual grandiose spread was already awaiting him, as was Calvin, seated comfortable at the other end of the table.

 “Ahh, good morning Ken!” Calvin was insufferably chirpy for the early hour of the morning. Did he ever sleep? “Don’t worry about feeding Frank this morning, I’ve already taken care of that. Instead, please take care of this!”

Ken assumed Calvin was not in fact referring to the giant steak he had skewered on his fork. Who even ate steak for breakfast anyway? After a moment’s digging about, he brandished a book at Ken. Great, extra reading on top of everything else? He took it reluctantly. Leather bound, with an embellished strap to keep it secure and pocket-sized. It was actually quite nice looking. When he opened it up to read its title, he found it blank.

He looked up to Calvin for an answer.

 “Yes, a journal for you, Ken!” Calvin was now waving his steak around instead. “Or a diary, if you’d rather. Either way, I’d like it if you could record some activities in it, when you find the time. After all, it helps me prove that I’m taking adequate care of you!”

Ken felt the pressure land on him like a ten tonne weight. The life of a school student wasn’t exactly filled with tragedy and romance. Not unless you were one of those popular kids. Which Ken had never been. Exactly what was he supposed to put in it?

“If you’re feeling reluctant, there’s some motivation tucked within the pages, boy.” Calvin winked. Ken took the bait, and flipped through the pages. Every tenth page or so, there was a crisp ten dollar note.

“I realise that things cost money in this world, dear Ken,” said Calvin. “So here’s a few _greens_ to keep you healthy!”

With that, Calvin smiled. The first genuine smile – or at least the first one Ken believed – since they had met a few days ago. Ken felt warmth stir in his belly that soaked through the rest of him like he had just eased himself into a hot bath. Igor’s voice delivered familiar words that ran like background noise through his head.

_“I am thou,_

_Thou art I,_

_Thou hast acquired a new vow,_

_It shall become the wings of rebellion that breaketh thy chains of uncertainty,_

_With the birth of the Hierophant Persona, I have obtained the winds of blessing that shall lead to freedom and new power…”_

 

“Anyway, I suppose it’s time for you to be on your way, isn’t it Ken?”

Ken crashed back to reality with Calvin’s not-so-subtle hint. With a nod, Ken simply grabbed a lukewarm pop-tart from the veritable mountain, and shouldered his schoolbag. The first page of his diary held an advance payment – ten whole dollars all to himself. Even his parents never gave him that much money in one go. Sometimes he felt like the only kid in the universe who didn’t get an allowance.

He thought – very carefully – before he closed the diary again. Maybe other kids would act differently, maybe he was too much of a goody-two-shoes, but he decided to follow the honour system. Money had worth after all and worth came from _earning_ it. He would take the $10 when he reached the page in the journal – not before. But still, a whole $10 richer than before. He could feel it and its worth burning in his back pocket. Now that he could suddenly afford things, they all felt just that much more tempting. After all, what was a kid with $10 of their own money going to do? Spend it responsibly?

There was a corner store halfway to school. A small shop with a bored looking twenty-something as the only cashier. Their candy section was woefully meagre – and Ken suspected overpriced. Yet he bought the most appealing thing he could find – a box of chocolate drops with a jolly looking astronaut on the front cover.

So absorbed he was in reading the slogan – _they’re out of this world!_ – and the supposed… health benefits of them, he barely even noticed Gene and his two sisters as he ambled by their place.

 “Oh! Ken! Good morning!” Gene waved to him. “Are we gonna walk to school together again? Don’t make me run!”

“Speed up, Ken! _Make_ him run!” Louise immediately countered.

“But then we’d have to run too.” Tina was, as always, the deadpan of reason.

Ken grunted, and turned around, at last noticing the trio of siblings behind him. The magical hypnotic powers of chocolate loosened their grip, and he saw Gene speed-shuffling towards him.

“Chunky Blast-offs?!” The lad suddenly spluttered, and next thing Ken knew, Gene was two inches away from his face, with eyes as round as dinner plates. “I _love_ Chunky Blast-offs!”

As much as Ken wanted to, he couldn’t avoid staring into those enormous, shining eyes. The longer he looked, the wider they grew, and he just knew he wasn’t getting out of this without surrendering his chocolate. Ken sighed, and handed the half-empty box to Gene.

“Ngah?! Thank you thank you thank-wuam-nam-nam-nam!” Gene had already emptied the box, noisily swallowing down the two dozen or so pieces of chocolate. “Mmm, that really hit the spot, didn’t it, belly?”

“What, all twenty of them?” Louise frowned.

“Yes! They all hit twenty different spots!” Gene beamed back at her. “I am so pumped, and ready for a day of _learning!”_

Ken shook his head fondly. The four of them made the short walk to Wagstaff in a pleasant bubble of noise and chocolate induced hysteria. Their first class of the day was World Geography which apparently promised a round-the-world knowledge of cities, countries and cultures. But the World Geography class didn’t contain a globe or even a world map. Instead, Ms. Labonz, a teacher with glasses and a gravelly voice, pulled down a dog-eared map of the US for them all to stare at.

 “Alright kids, can anyone tell me what the capital of Iowa is?” She barked, clearing her throat and snorting for good measure. Understandably, no one dared breathe, forget volunteer to answer.

“No one? Fine then, I’ll pick… you. Fat kid.”

Gene flinched like he’d just sat on a Lego. “Uh oh.”

Somehow Ms Labonz didn’t notice as Gene twisted around. “Ken! Ken…! Do you know the answer? I was _not_ listening!”

Ken just frowned back at him. How was he supposed to know what the capital of Iowa was? His last geography teacher had once tried to convince him that Alaska was an island. But then a lightbulb flickered in his head. Wasn’t that the one with the really French sounding name? Really out of place because it wasn’t in the Deep South?

Ken gulped, and whispered an answer back to Gene, who parroted it to Ms Labonz.

“Err… They… moines?”

“…Close enough,” Ms Labonz rolled her eyes. “It’s pronounced ‘ _Des Moines’,_ and it was not the first capital of Iowa. That was Burlington, which was then changed to-“

Gene beamed back at Ken, practically radiating appreciation. “Thanks buddy!”

Ken could feel the awkward heat pool in the back of his neck of all places as, once again, countless eyes began staring him down.

“That new kid’s too smart for his own good.”

“He should’ve just let Gene drown!”

“Must be nice, having your own lap dog…”

Maybe it was best just to keep his head down for the rest of the day. Ken shifted his gaze to the textbook and did his best to listen to Ms. Labonz hack and cough her way through the hour long period.

But no matter how hard he tried to keep a low profile, the rumours and gossiping waged on. Three lessons later, they were still rife. Ken was used to this – being weird came with its own penalties – but there was only so much that even he could take, and their cruel rumours were starting to take their toll. Too worried to even so much as raise his head, he refused to mutter anything more than a “present” or a grunt in response to any teacher. His head and jaw both ached from the force of gritting his teeth to help him keep it together.

It was in the middle of another vicious tirade of whispered insults that Ken felt somebody hissing in his ear. “Psst! Wanna skip class?”

Ken could barely focus at this point, but Gene’s weird voice cut through the static like a knife. He found the energy to turn his head, and saw the lad looking at him, almost pleadingly. It was a good thing _someone_ had a speck of empathy in here. His eyes watering from the pain ricocheting through his head, he focused, and grimaced, and forced a nod.

“Alrighty!” Gene whispered, before releasing a loud, overtly theatrical groan and falling off of his chair. “Ohhh-OWWW…!”

Their math teacher stopped writing on the chalkboard, “Something wrong, Gene?”

“Y-yes, Miss Jacobson!” Gene gasped. “I uhh, I don’t feel… very well. Could someone take me to the nurse’s office?”

He staggered to his feet and clenched two hands to his stomach.

“Hmm, I guess you’d better,” Miss Jacobson was already signing a hall pass for him. “We don’t want a repeat of last time, do we Gene? Could someone help him there, please?”

A smattering of hands rose up in the air, and Ken severely doubted that any of them were actually wanting to help Gene. But Gene cleared his throat and knocked Ken’s table, giving him the _look_. So Ken also put a hand in the air.

Of course though, someone had to outdo him.

“I’ll take him, Miss,” that Courtney kid lisped. “I-I’m not feeling too well myself, so-”

Gene grimaced. “B-but what if you’re sick too, Courtney?”

“I’ll take that risk, Genie,” she smiled up at him, and by God it was creepy.

“Well I can’t, I’m afraid, Miss Wheeler,” Miss Jacobson had her hands on her hips. “If you want to go to the nurse’s office too, I’ll have to have someone escort you both. Umm… new boy, Ken, was it? Do you know where the nurse’s office is yet?”

Despite the fact he most definitely did not know, Ken nodded. The quicker he got out of this room the better.

“Alright, good enough,” Miss Jacobson filled out two more hall passes, and Ken helped Gene out of the classroom, with Courtney following behind them.

The moment they were out of earshot, Gene bounced back, all smiles and sunshine.

“Hah! Great work, Ken! For the next ten minutes, the school is ours!”

“Wait, so you’re not actually sick?” Courtney’s voice was acidic. “That’s not very nice, Gene. Some of us have congenital heart defects!”

“Well I was trying to get Ken out of there, _thank you_ Courtney!” Gene was suddenly venomous as he barked back at her. “Couldn’t you hear all the nasty things the other kids were saying about him?”

“A-a little…” Courtney withdrew, “But isn’t that what being the new kid is all about?”

“But it shouldn’t have to be!” Gene cried. “Ken’s a good kid, and they’re just making fun of him! All ‘cause he looks a bit funny!”

“Funny?” Courtney frowned. “I-I don’t think he looks funny?”

Ken started as if he had been shocked. Thankfully, nobody noticed as Gene and Courtney were still too busy bickering. He looked across at Courtney as if seeing her for the first time. She didn’t think he looked funny. But that was impossible, wasn’t it? Everybody thought he looked funny. Even his family, even the kids he had known since he was in kindergarten thought he looked funny. He considered this girl could simply have been lying, but what reason would she have for that? She had seemed totally genuine. A rush of gratitude warmed him and he felt some tension leave his body. Sure, everyone said she was annoying, but it seemed as though her heart was definitely in the right place. Congenital defects and all.

“C’mon Ken!” Gene threw a hand over his shoulders. “Let’s go get some early lunch! There are _three_ fish sticks with your name on them!”

“But wait, aren’t we supposed to be going to the nurse’s-”

“You can go if you want, Courtney!” Gene forestalled her. “But _we_ are getting fish sticks. Don’t worry about the queue Ken! I know a gal!”

With that, Gene scarpered down the hallway, surprisingly fast on his chubby legs. Ken glanced back at Courtney and after a moment’s exchange, the two of them followed in his wake.

* * *

“Alright, we’re down to the last few burgers in this batch,” Bob muttered to himself. “Lin!” He called up the stairs. “Could you cover for us for a while? I gotta get the new batch started!”

“Sure thing, Bobby!” Linda’s sing-song voice rang back down. Moments later his wife was skipping down the stairs. “Cov-erin’ for Bobby, for just a little while, he’s gonna grind up, some meat an’, then squash it into bur-gers! And then we’re gonna cook ‘em, and sell ‘em, nah-nah-na~”

Bob shook his head fondly, and disappeared into the basement where the meat grinder was. There were two whole customers in the store at the moment, and both had already been fed, so it was _pretty_ unlikely that anything weird was going to happen.

“Hey there, meat stock,” he smiled down at the crate that had been delivered yesterday. “You having a good day today?”

 _“Pretty good Bob,”_ he parroted back to himself in a high-pitched, squeaky voice. _“Though I was getting bored down here, all alone.”_

“Well then, I’ve got some great news for you,” Bob grabbed his crowbar, and started prying the crate open. “Because I’m gonna turn you from Grade A Beef, into Grade A Burg-huh?”

He popped the top of the crate fully off and instantly stopped in his tracks. Eyeing the contents suspiciously, he paced circles around the crate. “What…the…?”

He squatted down to get a closer look.

 _“What’s wrong, Bob?”_ He squeaked to himself.

“Well it said on the crate that you were Grade A Beef,” Bob’s eyes narrowed. “But you don’t look much like beef! TRAITOR!”

 _“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to!”_ He continued squeaking to himself. _“I’m still good meat, I promise!”_

“…you’re right, it’s not your fault, meat stock.” Bob sighed. “It’s your supplier’s! They will feel my wrath! WRAAAATTHHH…!”

Suddenly there was a hammering on the basement door. “Bobby?! Bobby what’s wrong?!”

“Oh uhh… nothing, Lin.” Bob called up to her. “Just remind me to call the supplier when I’m done here, got it?”

“Sure thing, Bob…” Linda deflated. “Geez, I never knew a man who liked to play with his meat so much…!”

“I dunno, Hugo maybe?” Bob chortled back, but it fell on deaf ears. “…oh. Too late.”

 _“Well I thought it was funny, Bob.”_ He said to himself. _“Am I still allowed to be burgers?”_

“Ugh, I guess I don’t have much choice, do I?” Bob shrugged. “It’s your lucky day, meat stock.”

_“Yayyyy!”_

* * *

 

The restaurant remained slow throughout the day. Bob worked dutifully with the grinder and Linda watched the clock until finally it ticked around to three-thirty. The doorbell tinkled, signalling the kids’ return from school.

“Oh, kids! You’re home!” Linda cried, and ran around the counter to hug everyone. “Oh, and you brought Ken with you! Hi, Ken! You stayin’ for dinner?”

“Mom, mom, take a step back already!” Louise flailed at her. “Don’t mom him all up! He’ll forget where he lives or something!”

“Yeah, where _do_ you live, Ken?” Tina asked.“I just realised we hadn’t asked you that yet.”

Almost cheesily on cue – like an episode of some low budget sitcom – the bell to the restaurant tinkled again and in walked Mr Fischoeder himself.

“Hello, Belchers!” He announced. “And how are we all tod…eh?”

Calvin’s flourish was interrupted immediately when he clapped eye on Ken, standing in the middle of the restaurant and looking just as confused as he did.

 “…why Ken. Hello there.” Suddenly his voice had lost all vigour. “I didn’t know you knew these err… people?”

“Hey there, Mr Fish,” Linda stood up to greet him properly. “You know Ken? He goes to the same school as the kids! He’s in Gene’s class!”

“And he is my friend!” Gene raised a fist into the air.

“F-riend…?” Calvin spoke, as if he didn’t quite recognise the word.

Ken grimaced, waiting for the inevitable fallout. Calvin didn’t seem like the type of person who would object, but his mind was still instantly filled with thoughts of being dragged home, shoved into his room and forbidden from interacting with the “normal kids” ever again.

Yet Calvin’s face suddenly broke out into a wild smile.  “…grand! It’s good to see that you’re making friends, boy! And with the Belcherlings, too! What a wonderful coincidence! Perhaps it would inspire them to pay their rent on time!”

Calvin stopped, and glanced around at all the stunned expressions in the room. “Ahh yes, perhaps I should explain. Ken here is a distant relative of mine, so I am taking care of him for a year. You can tell that we’re obviously related, because look, we have the same hair!”

Ken had to admit, their hairstyles were actually very similar. But he doubted that was any _real_ proof of relation. He wasn’t even sure he was actually related to the man in the first place.

“…oh,” Linda was surprisingly accepting of all of this. “Well, that’s wonderful news, Mr Fish. I’ll go get Bobby for you, is that why you’re here?”

“Get me for what?” Bob’s voice called from the basement, moments before he himself appeared behind the counter. “…oh, hey Mr Fischoeder. What can I get you?”

“Well, I was going to request some _business_ from you, Bob,” Calvin fluttered his cape to one side. “But it seems as though you have all befriended my Ken! And that is worth far more than any amount of outstanding rent money, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I… yes! Yes I would agree!” Bob saw an opportunity and seized it. “Ken is always welcome here, day or night!”

“Graaaand!” Calvin laughed, “Well, I best be going then! Do come home at some point, okay Ken! We have salad to slaughter!”

Before Ken could gather his thoughts to give any sort of coherent reply, the enigmatic man had already left the store and was pootling down the road in his stupid golf cart.

“…well that was weird,” Linda mused. “So you’re stayin’ for dinner, Ken? We don’t have food as fancy as Mr Fischoeder, but you’re welcome to stay?”

“Stay a while, Ken!” Gene encouraged. “We have things!”

“Like family TV night,” Tina added.

“And, uhh, walls?” Louise shrugged.

“And thanks to you, little ‘Get out of jail free’ card,” Bob ruffled his hair. “A reprieve on the rent! Oh, and speaking of TV…” Bob’s attention was diverted for a moment. He fished around for a remote, and dialled the volume up on the ancient TV set they had in the top corner of the restaurant.

 _“-tinuing with the ongoing investigation,”_ The announcer spoke into her microphone. _“Local police are baffled with little evidence to work with. What are your thoughts on it all, Sergeant Bosco?”_

 _“Welp…”_ The mic was turned to a dark haired officer with greying sideburns and a strict nonchalance. _“These disappearances are obviously being committed by some guy… or some girl. Maybe lots of guys and girls. Either way, we know that they’re taking young kids, ranging from about ten to thirteen. If you’re a kid from about ten to thirteen, then stay inside, don’t go about loitering, and above all, behave! Oh, and if you see anything suspicious please report to the local police.”_

 _“Thank you for your thoughts, Detective Bosco.”_ The announcer spoke. _“You heard it here, folks. Keep your kids inside, where it’s safe. This is Olsen Benner, reporting from Bog Harbour.”_

The news report then fuzzed away into a weather report, and Bob stroked his chin. “Weird…”

“Ten to thirteen?!” Gene yelped, “That’s roughly my age!”

“Mine too,” Tina looked down.

“HAH! Not mine!” Louise looked a little too pleased about it.

“Alright, alright, calm down you three,” Linda shushed her kids. “No big mean kidnapper is gonna nap our kids!”

“Yeah, because we only take naps in the daytime!” Gene shouted. “So c’mon Ken, I’ll show you around the house! This is the restaurant, where food is served! These…are stairs! You _climb_ them!”

“He knows what stairs are, Gene.” Louise sighed at him.

“But not _our_ stairs!” Gene didn’t miss a beat.

Ken smiled and allowed himself to be dragged in every conceivable direction by the three Belcher kids. Whatever happened, it promised to be a fun evening.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of Chapter Stats
> 
> Your Hierophant Rank is currently at: One
> 
> You gave Gene the correct answer! Your Charm has increased!
> 
> You spent a precious moment with Gene. You feel your relationship has grown stronger!  
> _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
> 
> Also I know that elementary schools in the states usually have just one teacher to teach everything, but seeing as this is more of the Persona side of the fic, I figured I'd change teachers about a bit. After all, what's the harm?
> 
> As always, feel free to leave feedback. I'm especially grateful for happy reader 123, who's giving wonderful feedback, and about half of our motivation to keep this going. Thanks for your kind words! 
> 
> Over and out. :3


	6. A Mist Opportunity

Time at the Belchers seemed to fly by. Excusing himself tactfully as the clock ticked around to six o’clock, Ken mooched back towards the Fischoeder mansion, already feeling the effects of his good mood evaporate. He hadn’t seen Calvin for most of the day, so decided to take some time to socialise with him before bedtime. It seemed Calvin had been playing against himself on that _Salad Samurai_ for months, if not years, and he was apparently overjoyed at finally getting an opponent in the flesh. Ken was no match though, and had his score quadrupled by Calvin’s dexterous efforts.

It wasn’t as much of a wasted hour as Ken thought it would. In rare moments, he found himself liking, even relating to this eccentric character. Half the town seemed terrified of him, for reasons he was a bit too afraid to ask, but at least he seemed a willing, if not over-eager, caregiver.

Falling into bed that night, he experienced the first night of luxurious sleep since he came here. Igor’s manic grin wasn’t waking him every couple of hours, and short of one heart-wrenching moment in which a mottled green, decaying face briefly permeated his thoughts at around 3am, the night was relatively nightmare free too. Things finally seemed to be on the up.

If Fridays were good days, Saturdays were the _best_ days. Sunday was full of preparations for school, last minute homework, and the impeding feeling of a wasted day. But Saturdays were a whole other affair. You could be as irresponsible as you wanted and still have time to recover if necessary.

A whole day stretching lazily out in front of him, he deciding to venture into town. Remembering to feed Frank and say goodbye to Calvin, he decided to take the slow route. See the sights, maybe.

And it came to no surprise that the town’s other residents were just as weird as the ones he’d met so far. There was the guy who wore nothing but a speedo and a pair of roller skates, several people who seemed to willingly dress in brightly coloured horse costumes, the town’s very own biker gang, and a herd of raccoons that lived down an alleyway just behind Bob’s Burgers.

Bob’s Burgers. Ken’s stomach gurgled as the smell of grease and cooked meat beckoned him from inside. Lunch was beginning to sound like an attractive option after all that walking. He was barely in the door before Bob noticed him, “Ken! Come in!”

It was as empty as ever, with just the one customer, but Bob seemed as exuberant as ever. Ken noticed that the Burger of the Day had been changed, just like it promised. This time it was the ‘If You Like Tikka Masala’ Burger, which obviously included tikka masala. Some dusty archives in the back of his mind told him that this was chicken of some description.

“So you’re here for Gene, or… Louise or Tina or… someone?” Bob asked, and Ken answered with a simple nod, suddenly feeling awkward about ordering in such an empty restaurant. “Alright then, head on up. They’re… definitely there.”

Ken thanked him. Behind the counter, he found a humble set of carpeted stairs separating home and business. It was a strange feeling, really. In the short hours Ken had spent here the day before, he had already been made to feel more at home than Calvin ever could in the several _days_ he had spent at Fischoeder mansion. Of course, Calvin wasn’t without trying, and Ken was far from begrudging from those efforts, but a fifty room mansion just felt so cold and sterile, compared to the three-and-a-half bedroom shack above a burger restaurant. It smelled of some beast that was grease combined with ketchup, but the Belcher residence boasted a familial warmth that Fischoeder mansion couldn’t even attempt. Ken felt like he knew all five members of Gene’s family already, but he hadn’t yet met Calvin’s elusive brother, Felix. The contrast really was too much…

“Hmm?” A voice heard him shuffling up the stairs. “Who’s there?”

Ken followed the voice into the sitting room, and found Linda splashed across the couch with a glass of wine and a lopsided smile.

“Ohh, Kenny Benny…!” Linda had already nicknamed the poor boy. “Are you doin’ okay? Payin’ us all a visit?”

Ken gave a slow nod. He felt awkward. None of the kids were around and it would’ve been pretty weird to be socialising with their tipsy mother.

“Ken?” Another voice drew him back out into the hallway, where Gene was stood with a bowl of orange gloop that Ken couldn’t even hope to identify. “Ken!” He threw his bowl into the air in his excitement and its contents spilled onto everything in sight. “Noo, my chicken satay!”

“Ken?”

Two more voices sounded from down the hallway. Louise’s head poked out of one room and the other door, presumably Tina’s, opened a slight crack. But the more concerning thing was seeing Gene scraping his chicken satay back into its bowl, leaving a horrendous orange stain on the once reddish carpet.

But that still didn’t stop him eating it with his bare hands.

“Mm-nam-nam-nam…” he swallowed it down. “Who would’ve thought carpet fluff would improve it?!”

“No one. Ever.” Louise had finally come out of her room.

Ken’s stomach churned as Gene continued to swallow it down. All of a sudden he didn’t feel so hungry. He looked to Louise to save himself feeling even sicker. She almost looked sympathetic. “You’ve timed it badly, Ken. We’ve gotta go downstairs to help with the lunch lull. Unless you wanna chill with mom for a couple hours.”

“Yayyyy~” Linda hiccupped from the sitting room. “Come stay with Linda!”

“Seriously, you wanna help us downstairs,” Louise whispered to him.

Taking the hint, Ken followed Louise downstairs. Tina wasn’t far behind them both, and Gene took up the rear, half covered in chicken satay, and wearing the bowl on his head like someone out of a cheap samurai movie.

No sooner had they stepped into the restaurant, Bob rounded on them. “Gene, take that off and clean yourself up.”

“Never!” Gene held onto his bowl tighter.

“You’re just gonna create more work if you walk onto the restaurant floor like that…” The burger meat on the grill sizzled as Bob buried his face in one palm.

“More work?!” Gene suddenly yelped. He threw his bowl to the ground, and dashed into the ‘employee bathroom’.

“I wanna see you sparkle before you get outta there, Gene!” Bob shouted over the clattering and sputtering of various bathroom noises.

“I _always_ sparkle!” Gene retorted instantly.

“Ugh…” Bob flipped two burgers on the grill. “He’s gonna be a while. Ken, mind if I ask a huge favour of you?”

Ken took his hands out of his pockets, and looked Bob in the eye. Ever since coming back down the stairs, he’d resigned himself to helping out, so he gave the man an affirmative nod.

“Great, glad you can help. And sorry for dragging you into this,” Bob sighed. “Look, basically, it’s lunchtime and we actually get busy sometimes at lunchtime. Louise is helping in the restaurant, shifting plates, keeping tables keen, yada yada. Tina’s helping me out in here, chopping vegetables and preparing ingredients. But I need someone to take orders. Normally I’d ask Gene, but he’s busy _sparkling_ ,” Bob gave a grandiose jazz-hands. “And Lin’s probably had a few too many wines. So I need to ask if you can take the orders for me. Could you do that for me, Ken?”

Bob retrieved a notepad and pen from the pocket of his apron, and handed them to him. “There’s a free burger in it for you?”

Ken looked to the notepad in his hands, then to Bob, and back to the notepad. His stomach woke itself back up again and gurgled in appreciation. All he had to do was write down stuff and he got free food? Even if he got it all wrong, he was getting a free burger out of it. Plus, he noticed with a pang of sympathy, Bob looked like he was actually in a bit of a bind. What else was he going to do? Stand there and watch them struggle?

As he ruminated, the bell tinkled, and two more customers entered; a middle aged man and a slightly younger looking woman. Ken made no assumptions, but they did take a seat opposite each other in one of the booths.

Ken looked back to Bob and gave him a quick nod.

“Atta boy!” Bob gave him what looked like a genuine smile. “Alright, Gene, you’ve been replaced for the day!”

“WHAT?” Louise screeched at him amidst a clatter of plates and utensils. “If that’s all it takes, I’m gonna take a ketchup bath!”

“No, Louise!” Bob cried back. “Just… focus for me.”

“Fiiiine…” Louise groaned, and collected plates from the counter. “Alright Teddy, you stayin’ or goin’?”

“Eheh, you know me Louise,” this “Teddy” character replied with a deep, thick voice. “I’ll take another Burger of the Day!”

“Don’t ask me, ask our guest waiter,” Louise pointed towards Ken, and instantly he clammed up. Teddy, with his blue dress shirt, brown pants and placid smile, simply waited for him.

“H-Hello?” Ken tried his best to sound polite. Talking to strange people was bad enough, but listening to them, writing down what they said, parroting it back to Bob… He suddenly felt very small and like he was on show for everyone to see. Ken exhaled slowly, to calm his nerves. Thoughts of a free burger flooded his mind. Free burger, free burger…

“Oh, hello there!” Teddy seemed pleasantly surprised by Ken. “And who might you be?”

“That’s Ken, Teddy. And he’s helping out today instead of Gene.” Bob explained.

“Oh. Well it’s good to meet a fellow helper!” Teddy beamed at him. “I’ll take another Burger of the Day, just as it comes, please!”

“Burger… of the… day,” Ken scribbled some notes down on his pad, and approached the next customer at the counter. A thin, unassuming forty-something with greying hair badly hidden underneath an obvious wig.

“Oh, hello there!” He smiled. “I’ll just take the soup today, if that’s alright?”

“Soup,” Ken noted it down. He took another deep breath; just three customers to go.

The young woman in the booth on her own asked for a cheeseburger without the tomatoes, while the middle-aged man in the next booth took ‘the usual’ with a beer, and his accomplice on the other side wanted asked for a basic burger, but with a side salad and a coke.

“H-h-here,” Ken trembled, and handed the notepad back to Bob.

“Great work, Ken. Thanks for all the help,” Bob barely noticed his presence. He flipped through the couple pages of the notebook, and frowned at it. “Hmm…”

A few moments later, he looked despairingly back at Ken who felt his heart plummet to somewhere in his stomach.

 “…sorry Ken, I can’t make heads or tails of this. I don’t suppose you remembered what everyone wanted, do you?”

Ken didn’t blame the older man but he still felt a skelf of shame. Even he struggled reading his own writing sometimes. Complete with his nerves, and the pressure of the whole situation, he was surprised it even came within the range of legible.

“Err… T-Teddy wanted a Burger of the Day, just as it comes.”

“Sounds like Teddy.” Bob nodded, and squashed his spatula down onto a burger. Fat and grease oozed out of the meat, and Bob flipped it just as Tina prepared the salad and Tikka masala.

“Order up!” Bob dinged the bell, and Louise ducked under the counter before collecting it, and handing it to Teddy.

“Alright, good start Ken. What did Mort want?” Bob looked to him again.

Ken supposed that was the guy with the wig. “H-he wanted the soup.”

“Gotcha. One soup for Mort. And the others?”

Ken took in a breath, sent his mind back and shut his eyes to concentrate. “The lady on her own wanted a cheeseburger, while the guy wanted ‘the usual’ and a beer, and the lady with him wanted a normal burger and a… coke?”

As those words left his lips, he immediately wasn’t sure on them. An unusual tang in them that he couldn’t identify, the feeling sank to his stomach and just sat there, like a rock thrown into a pond.

“Got it,” Bob nodded, and scraped down the grill before adding a fresh batch of burgers.

 Something still felt alien, almost out-of-place to Ken though as he watched Bob and Tina working hard. One by one, orders were placed up on the counter, and Louise would deliver them to the respective customers. All seemed well, and Ken dared to hope maybe he was just overthinking it all, until the young woman at the booth who – at the insistence of the guy opposite her– approached the counter.

She mumbled something to Bob, all the while fiddling with the hems of her cardigan, and Bob frowned back at her.

“…side salad?”

The rock in Ken’s stomach sank and buried itself in his gut. The free burger disappeared from his mind in a cloud of tantalising smoke.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry!” Bob immediately apologised to the young lady, “It must’ve gotten lost in the order or something. Here, we’ll get you that side salad, ma’am…”

Bob’s limbs were practically a flurry as he threw a salad together, complete with some fancy looking dressing, in under a minute. “A-and to say sorry, this one’s on me. Don’t worry about paying for it.”

“…thank you,” The young woman accepted her salad from Louise, and then shuffled back to her seat in the booth. Bob grabbed a cloth and swept his brow, then let out a long, low sigh. “Right, that should just about do it. Kids, you can head on back upstairs if you want. Oh, and Ken?”

Ken felt as though he’d been struck by lightning. The fact that Bob’s voice didn’t sound at all angry somehow made it worse. He turned to face the man, and grimaced, waiting for the fallout.

Instead a hand clapped down on his shoulder. “Thanks for your help buddy, you really… helped. Little dicey on that last order, but hey, we all make mistakes. Don’t let it get to you, huh?”

With a rush of butterflies in his stomach, Ken’s body relaxed and a feeling of pride encompassed him. He’d done it. By the skin of his teeth, maybe, but he’d done it. It had been a long time since he had felt helpful to anyone. He looked up at Bob, towering over him like some kind of moustachioed yeti, but felt a strange, yet familiar warmth emanating from his genuine smile. Not only did Bob cover for his screw-up, but helped him feel confident even _afterwards._

“So what were you wanting in that burger, Ken? S’on me, remember?”

And then like a lightbulb, it clicked;

_“I am thou,_

_Thou art I,_

_Thou hast acquired a new vow,_

_It shall become the wings of rebellion that breaketh thy chains of uncertainty,_

_With the birth of the Emperor Persona, I have obtained the winds of blessing that shall lead to freedom and new power…”_

 

A smile broke across Ken’s face. First they were making him feel welcome, now they were giving him free food _with_ the benefit of having him felt like he’d earned it. Calvin would simply pile the table high with a smorgasbord of mass produced crap. But this glistening burger patty, steaming and all the best kinds of greasy, that he’d _earned_ , was sitting between two buns with its complementary slather of tikka masala. It was plated, and handed to him, and officially _his._

Ken inhaled the steam coming from it, and immediately felt himself start to salivate. The food he was given at Calvin’s, while plentiful, just couldn’t compare to decent, high quality stuff. Faced with the masterpiece of a burger before him, Ken was immediately wondering two things; how Bob stayed in business, and simultaneously why business was so bad. A little publicity would do this place the world of good…

“A-anyway, I’ll leave you to it. Thanks again for your help, Ken.” Bob gave him a nod, and started with the post-rush clean up. Tina and Louise had already disappeared back upstairs it seemed, and the smattering of customers had since departed as well, leaving the place a ghost town once again. So Ken shrugged, and took a seat in one of the far booths.

He smiled at his free lunch, and grabbed it with both hands. However, before it could even reach his mouth, a burst of chatter struck him like a punch to the face.

“Hi Ken! Thanks for covering for me!”

Gene had finally emerged from the employee bathroom and was now sparkling clean, just like he’d promised. Albeit still wearing his bowl like a hat.

“It took longer to sparkle than I thought it would,” Gene collapsed into the booth opposite him, much to his father’s visible chagrin from the kitchen. “But I’m here now! Start the marching bands!”

The restaurant remained quiet – to no surprise.

“Gene, get off the table.”

“You get off the table, father!” Gene retorted instantly.

“I’m not on a – ohh, I see what you’re doing,” Bob deadpanned. “Ugh, I need a break. That restroom better be useable, Gene!”

“It took all of my sparkle!” Gene hollered after him.

It took all of a moment for Bob to groan with indignation upon entering the employee restroom, leaving Ken and Gene alone in the restaurant. No customers, no Bob, no Louise or Tina… no anything, really. It was almost too quiet. Perfect eating atmosphere, really.

So Ken shrugged, and finally succeeded in taking a bite out of his free burger. The soft, moist burger patty contrasted so well with the tangy tikka masala and the wholesome-

“Give _me_ a bite!” Gene insisted, and stole the burger out of Ken’s hands. Before he could even object, half of it was down Gene’s throat.

“Ohh, yeah, that really hit the spot,” Gene patted his stomach and let out an impressive burp.

Ken rolled his eyes, and swallowed down his one mouthful that he’d worked so hard for. But no sooner had it slipped down his throat, a weird feeling enveloped him. At first he thought it was like those weird pains you get when you’ve finally eaten after a long time, but they always passed quickly. These pains persisted. Almost like pins and needles, they pricked at his insides before emanating outwards. Ken grasped at the table to try and bear the pain away but he couldn’t. The feeling spread quickly and now he felt like he was being stretched out and compressed, all at the same time.

Reality suddenly warped, as if he were staring at it through a kaleidoscope. Then everything took a chill as hauntingly familiar fog billowed into his senses.

“Where… are we?” Gene’s voice sounded both right next to him, yet also far away. What was once the restaurant had been replaced with a hollowed out, washed out replica. The fog was so thick that Ken could barely see his hands in front of his face. He was only vaguely aware that he was still sitting down.

“Are we in a _Wham_ music video?” Gene muttered, and stumbled out of the booth. Or at least it sounded like he did, which was comparable to a sack of potatoes falling out of the back of a delivery truck.

“Ken! Come join me! I can _not_ see a thing!”

Ken groaned and rose out of the booth. Something told him that leaving the safety of the booth was a bad idea. At the very least, then they knew where they were… sort of. Not only that, but all this fog, the freezing temperatures – though that was probably the fog’s fault – and all that crap that Igor said would happen… it was making him a little nervous. Yet Gene seemed completely oblivious to it.

But being lost and confused together was definitely better than being lost and confused alone. So with a sigh and a shiver, Ken found his way towards Gene, who was doing his best to stumble into everything, it seemed.

“No _wonder_ George Michael wore those glasses,” He seemed as blindly optimistic as ever. “Should we… go outside, Ken?”

Ken’s hand found the smooth glass of the shop’s front window. In doing so, the doorbell tinkled, a menacing semitone lower than it usually did, and sent another cascade of ice down his spine.

“…I guess so.” Ken supposed. Where else was there? This world was obviously some weird dystopian mirror of their own, and whatever happened, it brought them here for a purpose. So now they were going to have to find out why that was.

The doorbell tinkled again – four separate, distinct chords – as the two young boys ventured outside. Somehow, the temperature dropped even lower, and Ken made sure that Gene was within reach. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching them, so if worst came to worst, the pair of them would be harder to eat than just him.

Every now and again, something would whoosh past. Was it the wind? Maybe something a bit more sinister? Ken hoped it was the wind. The wind couldn’t maul them.

This fog just was never ending. He and Gene crept forward, along what could have been any stretch of road, or path, or… anything, really. Everything just felt the same with his numbed senses.

But still, there was that ever-present, lurking feeling. Like something was breathing right down their necks. Ken swore something solid just lurched across the peripheries of his vision, and definitely did _not_ imagine the glinting red eyes that lit up for all of a split second.

“I do not like this place, Ken.” Gene whispered to him. “I suggest that we go back, get snacks, and maybe return later!”

“You think there’s food in this world?” Ken asked, and could _feel_ the panic set in with Gene.

“Then I suggest leaving and not coming back!”

“H-hang on,” Ken shivered. “I think I see something.”

Gene released some weird, screechy noise, and Ken ignored the sensation of heavy breathing to inspect what was in front of him. It was definitely a solid mass, he could tell, but this all seemed just too familiar. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, ready to burst through his ribcage and make a bid for freedom. His breathing was so heavy against this awful, thick mist that he felt he might faint at any moment. But he swallowed down his fear, his nerves, his apprehension, and grasped for the mass on the floor.

 Whatever it was, it was squishy, and felt only loosely connected, like a huge ball of dough or something. Things only got worse when it _leaked_ on him, covering his hands with a foul smelling liquid. Ken grimaced, and gave the thing another tug. It lurched, resistant to his limited strength, but he persisted. Whatever it was, it was obviously why they were here.

But then a head tipped forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of chapter stats:
> 
> You spent a precious moment with Calvin. You feel your relationship is going to grow stronger soon!  
> You beat your high score on Salad Samurai! Your Proficiency has increased!  
> You fed Frank the Ostrich! Your Courage has increased!  
> You almost got the orders right! Your Proficiency has increased!   
> You got a free burger from Bob! You feel as though you appreciate him more! You felt a faint bond between you and Bob.  
> Your Emperor Social Link is currently at: One 
> 
>  
> 
> Hey everyone. An update for you all. Finally threading in that 'other world' plot development thing that all Persona games have. Hope you guys are enjoying what's been written so far!
> 
> Feel free to leave a message or something if you've got the time. Thanks for reading!


	7. Mortal Recoil

Ken felt his insides shrivel and his knees give way underneath him. With what limited strength he had, he scuttled away, like a crab evading capture. His body hit against something solid – a wall? – but there still wasn’t enough distance between himself and… _that._ There couldn’t be even if he walked for a thousand miles.

The thing didn’t chase after him. It stayed wrapped up in the fog ahead of him. Just as he felt he was a bit safer, the ghastly sound of Gene violently throwing up reached his ears. His stomach wrenched and churned like there was a fist grasping inside. The burger he’d worked so hard for was clawing its way back out of him like some kind of monster. He couldn’t take the lurches any more.

Hunched over, Ken felt all the strength drain from his body as the contents of his stomach unleashed themselves into this nightmarish world. His hands shook beneath him, digging into the sharp granite, and Ken could barely managed a spluttering gasp before his vision went blurry.

Whether he had passed out or this was all just the product of some horrific hallucination, he didn’t know. But before he had the chance to come to his senses, he and Gene were back, bent double in the back alley next to the restaurant, equally ashen-faced and clammy.

“What… was that?”

Ken’s body was so exhausted he could hardly stand. But the vile smelling vomit splattered all over the alleyway told him that whatever had just happened was not a dream. It sounded so stupid – the stuff of graphic novels and Japanese video games – but there really was some kind of alternate reality, maybe, on the other side of this tiny seaside town. One full of monsters, and shadowy creatures, and…

_It_ reappeared in his mind. Greying, mottled, foul smelling and sinewy. The touch of its rotting flesh and seeping liquid still echoed on his hands. His stomach twisted again but nothing else would come. He slumped down, trying to regain his strength, just enough to make it back inside. He beckoned to Gene, and the pair slowly shuffled their way back towards the restaurant. The doorbell gave its usual, cheerful jingle as they entered and Ken flashed back to the warped impression from the doorbell on the other side. The noise sent an icy shiver down his spine.

“Evening you two,” Bob spoke to the onions he was chopping up rather than to the two boys.

Evening? That wasn’t right, was it? Ken looked outside again, and only now did he realise that the sun was beginning to set. Where had the day gone?

“Where’ve you been all day? Out having… fun?” Bob finally looked up, only to see two pale-as-a-ghost, clammy youngsters collapsed into the booth opposite him.

“Y-yeah… _so_ much fun,” Gene wrenched a quivering arm into the air.

“Geez, you kids look exhausted.” Concern actually showed on Bob’s face. He backed up a few steps, and hollered up the stairs, “Lin! Cover the restaurant a while! I’m gonna take Ken home real quick!”

“Pff, I wouldn’t worry about getting Mom,” Louise rounded the corner. “It’s not like we’re gonna have any cust-HOLY CRAP!”

“Heyyy Louise…” Gene mumbled.

“What the hell happened to you two?!” She cried.

Ken found the strength to lift his head, just as two glasses of water were plonked down in front of him.

“You look like you need something to drink.”

Ken could nod and not much else. He forced a trembling hand forwards and wrapped it around the cool, cool glass. With a tentative mouthful, the awful, acidic taste of vomit was washed away by clean, refreshing water.

“You two are burning up,” Bob’s rough hand pressed against his forehead. “Alright, I’m getting you home, Ken. Can you walk?”

Ken gulped down some more water, and stood on shaky legs.

“Atta boy.” Bob encouraged. “Louise, see if you can help Gene to his room, got it?”

“Uggghhhh…” Louise drew out the longest groan. “Fiiine! C’mon Gene, get up already! Bedtime!”

She made a spirited attempt to tug him out of the booth by his arm, however he simply fell where gravity took him and remained an immovable mass on the floor.

“Just… try your best, Louise. Recruit whoever you need.” Bob sighed, before bustling Ken outside. Next thing he knew, he’d been ushered into Bob’s car.

He rested his burning forehead against the cool glass of the window. Bob started the car and vibrations pulsed through his head. It was almost comforting. As the car pulled away, Ken finally allowed himself a moment of relaxation.

Bob drove against a backlight of evening sunlight, burning a charcoal silhouette against the town. Occasionally he spoke, but Ken didn’t always take it in. The words were slowly filtering into his mind like water through sand, but he couldn’t muster the energy to answer or even comprehend them. The blurry expression on Bob’s face grew slowly more concerned as the journey progressed.

Time slipped by in huge dollops. One moment it seemed like he and Bob were outside the restaurant, the next they’d left the town behind them, a blurry lattice of houses. Before he knew it, Fischoeder mansion had loomed out from beyond the horizon, and Frank the ostrich was busy trying to force his head through the gap in the window.

“Back! Get back!” Bob had decided that shaking his finger at the giant bird would do the trick. But Frank just blinked twice and continued his attack on the door.

“Ohh, godddd…!” Bob groaned, and resorted to beeping the horn. It might as well have been an air horn for the damage it was doing to Ken’s ears, however it did what Ken presumed Bob wanted it to; it drew Calvin outside.

“Now what’s this?” He muttered, stepping outside with what looked like a flamethrower in his hands. “Oh? Bob! And goodness, Ken! What on earth happened, boy?” Calvin crunched across the gravel, and flailed hands at his security ostrich. “Away with you, Frank. Bob is not a food _or_ an intruder!” he paused.  “…yet.”

“What was… what was that you muttered under your breath, Mr Fischoeder?” Bob could finally step out of his car, and dashed around the front to help Ken.

“Oh, nothing, nothing,” Calvin dismissed him with a wave. “I think you should show more concern as to the state of my temporary dependee!”

“I don’t know how it happened, sir. He just came back to the restaurant after hanging out with Gene for a while, then got all clammy and faint. Might be heatstroke or something I… guess.”

“Nonsense, dear fool! He has clearly been influenced by your maladaptive spawn into eating filth! Look! He’s foaming at the mouth!”

“He’s just not feeling well, Mr Fischoeder. And don’t say things like that about my kids, please.”

“Semantics. We’ll discuss your punishment later, Bob! In the meantime, perhaps you should go to bed, Ken. There will be no more tiny fruit for you tonight! Just a glass of water and a bedtime serenade!”

Ken found the strength to look his guardian in the eye. A serenade? Really?

“A-hah, perhaps not, then.” Calvin looked a bit ashen. “That’s the _last_ time I take your advice, Felix. Perhaps a glass of water for you Ken, and a glass of schnapps for me!”

Calvin placed a hand on Ken’s back, and led him into the mansion. “I’ll take it from here, Bob. Return to your shack, if you will.”

“…fine,” Bob sighed. “I’ll swing by tomorrow to see how you’re doing, okay Ken?”

“There will be no swinging, Bob! I have a child present!” Calvin shut him down instantly. Ken didn’t have the energy to unravel that argument. His feet were lead weights as he dragged them up the stairs, with Calvin following closely behind him. He couldn’t help but feel grateful towards the man. After all, he was actually giving half a damn, and it didn’t seem forced.

Ken managed to remove his shoes before falling into bed, but as far as the rest of his clothes were concerned, they were his pyjamas for the night. Calvin returned moments later to usher in an entire pitcher of water, accompanied by a tiny glass that held barely a mouthful of water.

“I apologise for the tiny glass, Ken,” he said. “But it is rare that I have guests who wish to drink something that is not alcoholic! So if it pleases the court, and by the court I mean yourself Ken, please help yourself to as many virgin martinis as you can handle!”

There was another clank of china on wood, and Ken had to take a moment to process the plate of olives that Calvin had plonked onto his nightstand. Who actually ate olives? Anyone, ever?

Despite it all, Ken felt soothed. Calvin was doing a good job at taking care of him – even if it was this occasion only. He felt he should thank his impromptu guardian but the words wouldn’t come. Instead he looked up at Calvin and smiled at him with as much strength as he could muster. The man returned him a sage nod and then ducked out of the room, leaving it bathed in the soft glow of dusk.

Ken gulped down a martini’s worth of water and couldn’t help but chuckle at the silliness of it all. As the water settled, along with his stomach, a pang of energy burst from somewhere deep within him. Had Calvin slipped something in his water? Some sort of medicine maybe? He inspected the rest for particles or cloudiness but found nothing.

Whether it was medicinal or just a genuine feeling of comfort, Ken didn’t know. But at least he could look upon Calvin now and feel something a little closer to what he felt when he went to the Belcher’s house. Was it just that? Feeling a shift in how he felt towards the eccentric old guy? He didn’t know. But anything felt better than just wanting to throw up again. With a frown, he massaged his aching head. He was too tired for this. Things would be clearer in the morning.

Bundling himself up in the bedsheets, he buried his face in the pillow and allowed sleep to take him.

* * *

That thing was in his dreams again.

The dreams had always been bad. Worse than any night terrors he ever remembered having when he was younger. But now it was like they had gone up a gear all over again. Now the source of his fear had a face and it could chase him, with its rotting flesh and rattling breath.

One of the worst things about nightmares was the complete lack of control you had over your body. And this meant it was all too easy for _it_ to catch up. No matter how he ducked and weaved, no matter how sly he thought he was, the creature seemed constantly on his tail. Something sharp slashed at his leg and he stumbled. The rotting fiend towered over him in seconds. It took in another deep, rattling the breath, the sound of it causing Ken’s entire body to freeze. He searched the monster’s face, looking for any shred of decency, any sense of humanity remaining in its grim caricature of a living person.

Ken’s searching gaze instead found a pair of glowing, blood red eyes sunken in the monster’s collapsing face. The creature stretched out its hands and pounced…

But nothing happened.

Ken suddenly felt as he was suspended in mid-air, limbs dangling uselessly by his side. Cold sweat dripped uncomfortably between the blades of his shoulders and settled at the base of his spine.

“Good evening.”

He was awake now. He had to be. It took him a moment to realise where he was and he looked upon the hook nosed eccentric sitting opposite him with a note of gratitude. As strange as Igor was, at least he was nowhere near as scary as the monster.

“Do not be alarmed,” Igor said. “I thought I would… pop in. See how you’re doing. You’re not sleeping well, it seems?”

Ken’s heart was still beating tragically. His breathing came in such rapid hitches that he thought he would faint again if he didn’t pull himself together. He was back in that Ferris wheel carriage again. Granted, not the best place in the world to be, but infinitely better than that nightmare. As he took in the familiar deep hued surroundings, he noticed that, curiously, the pitcher of water that Calvin had brought him was still there.

He could see farther out of the smeared windows now. The town that lay somewhere in the distance sat solemnly against the inky black. As he watched, the silhouettes of buildings seemed to warp and shift. Lights flickered on and off like candlelight fighting against a cold wind. It made Ken feel nervous although he had no idea why. Was it just his imagination – or were those buildings seeming closer?

Igor was still waiting for an answer, which Ken supplied in the form of a curt nod.

“So I thought,” the man tapped his fingertips together. “Well, I suppose that is the issue with nightmares. Sometimes reality is far worse than anything the mind can conjure. But do not fret, dear boy! Perhaps you can make use of this curse, and unlock your true potential!”

Ken grimaced at him. What was this old guy on about? Exactly how could he make use of horrifying, gut wrenching nightmares?

As if he had read his mind, Igor chuckled. “Remember, Ken. No matter how awful your experiences may have been, you came back out alive. Others… were not so lucky,”

Ken’s stomach turned. Igor’s grin widened with the delivery of his last sentence. Who wasn’t so lucky? The poor person that lay dead in the other side of that world? Or was Igor hinting at something much worse?

Igor snapped his fingers and Ken’s vision began to fade, like white noise on a badly tuned TV. Words chimed in his head.

“Perhaps, you should listen to their stories…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your relationship with Calvin has grown stronger!  
> The Hierophant is now at level: Two
> 
> Well, it was the choice between one absurdly long chapter, or two shortish ones. So we decided on two shortish ones, because two is more than one, and thus better. :B
> 
> Not too much to say about this one really. Just a bit more foreshadowing and creepy stuff, before the plot gets moving on a bit more next time. Next update should be pretty soon, as it's already more or less written lol.
> 
> Stay tuned. :)


	8. The Body in the Alley on the Other Side of the World

Ken’s eyes shot open.  A small yelp escaped him as he took in the sights of an ordinary Sunday morning. No oppressive bluish glow, no weird piano music, and no Igor staring at him out of the corner of his eye. Relief washed over him like the new tide. He was back.

Rubbing his eyes, he felt around for the glass of water left by Calvin. The plate of olives left alongside it was now suspiciously empty. How curious…

His thoughts were interrupted by a buzzing coming from his jeans pocket.

“Huh?” It took Ken a moment to remember why he was still wearing jeans in the first place. Much of yesterday had been mercifully forgotten on his immediate awakening, but with the realisation he was still dressed, everything came rushing back to him. The memory of that _thing_ lying dead. The mysterious other world he and Gene had found themselves in. Along with the memories came the pain; the splitting headache and sore joints reared their ugly heads all over again.

The buzzing kept going. Ken fumbled for his phone, blinking and shaking his head, trying to clear his thoughts.

_From: Unknown Sender_

_hello ken this is gene. r u filling better? we should meet up and talk about that thing._

_Sent: 10:12am_

Then another appeared right underneath.

_Bring weapons_

_Sent: 10:13_

So Gene _did_ have a phone. Writing his number on his leg hadn’t been just some weird cry for attention. As he read the text over, a fresh surge of pain erupted in the back of his head. Pinching his nose to try suppress as much as he could, he tapped out a response to Gene. Pocketing his phone again, another thought poked its way unpleasantly to the front of his mind. Convincing Calvin to let him visit the Belchers’ again was not going to be easy.

First things first. He needed a shower. He could smell himself – a mix of salty sweat and unwashed bedsheets and he was covered in a film of moisture, sticking to him in all manner of unpleasant areas. Shedding his grotty clothes and stepping under the warmth of a shower, he felt the worst of his headache evaporate and the heat soothe his aching limbs.

Feeling altogether more human, Ken made his way downstairs. He half-hoped Calvin wouldn’t be there. In truth, he felt somewhat embarrassed the older man had seen him in such a state, and if nothing else, not seeing Calvin meant he could slip out to the Belchers’ unseen.

No such luck. Calvin was perched on his usual spot and no sooner had Ken’s feet touched the carpeted hallway, his voice rang out like a bell. “Good morning, Ken! You’re feeling better today, I trust?”

Ken considered his answer carefully. His stomach was still tight and gurgled a warning every now and again, so eating was probably a no-go for at least a little while. But with a shower and a lesser degree of pain, he felt considerably better than he probably had a right to. And if he admitted he still had a funny stomach, Calvin would be even less likely to let him out. He compensated by just nodding swiftly at him.

“Uh huh…” Calvin didn’t seem all too interested in his response. “Say, what’s a good descriptive word? Shoddy? Despicable? Unconscionable? Or how about the old classic, poopy?”

Only now did Ken notice that Calvin was writing something, or at least attempting to. He looked about as familiar with a pen and paper as Ken was with Latvian pottery, but he was clearly doing it for a reason. Ken’s stomach turned over again.

“I’m asking because of last night, dear boy,” Calvin explained, his voice sounding surprisingly dark and dangerous. “So how badly would you say they treated you? Astonishingly so? I will reflect based on what you say and raise their rent accordingly!”

Ken felt himself back into the wall, where an ugly portrait of a Fischoeder relative groaned at him in indignation. Calvin was going to raise their rent? Because of what happened last night? Now he knew why the town feared him.

The unfairness of it all tasted bitter. A scowl tugged down the corners of his mouth.  “…t-they didn’t.”

“Didn’t? Didn’t what?” Calvin glanced at him. “Didn’t… treat you properly?”

“N-no.”

“Aha! Then it’s settled! A ten percent rise seems about fitting, wouldn’t you say K-”

“No!” Ken shocked himself at his own volume. Even Calvin looked taken aback. “T-they… they treated me fine.” Ken picked his words carefully. “I was just… out in the sun too long, that’s all.”

“Out in the sun too long?” Calvin gave him a blank look.

Ken flinched under Calvin’s gaze. Looked like he wasn’t as good a liar as he thought.

“That… makes…perfect sense!” Calvin was suddenly ecstatic. “Why, with skin like yours, I imagine you’d burn up in minutes, don’t you! Such a relief, too, because I rather enjoy Bob and those hairy arms of his! They are a _treat_!”

Ken could feel the tension dissipate, like someone slowly letting the air out of a balloon.

“…so no rent rise?”

“For now at least,” Calvin screwed up whatever he was writing into a ball, and threw it behind him. “So I suppose you’ll be visiting them again? Letting them know you are not dead?”

Ken gave a slow nod. “…if that’s okay with you?”

“Of course, I don’t mind!” Calvin’s smile was hollow. “Though admittedly, I would have appreciated a moment or a few with you. A man can get lonely, spending all weekend on his own. After all, Felix is only any good for throwing firecrackers at…”

Ken hesitated. Gene sounded serious in his text and Ken _had_ promised to be there as soon as he could. On the other hand, Calvin’s kindness from yesterday hadn’t gone unnoticed and he had just agreed not to raise the Belchers’ rent. That was worth some time, surely?

Ken decided to compromise. He’d spend enough time to satiate Calvin and to fire through several more rounds of Salad Samurai. It was an addictive game and the fact that it was free-to-play was a positive. How the companies made money, Ken would never know. His confidence and speed grew and he finished his final game a respectful 1000 points behind Calvin. He had a feeling his guardian was going easy on him, but it didn’t lessen the sweetness of achievement.

Calvin agreed that he could head out just before midday. As Ken stepped out, he remembered something peculiar about Gene’s text. Something he probably ought to have paid more attention to before now.

_“bring weapons”_

What exactly was Gene planning on doing? Mounting an attack on something? Then again, weapons were generally used for one of two purposes. Attacking or protection. Was there something that Gene wanted to protect himself against? His mind ticked back to the body in the alleyway on the other side of the world. Could it be something to do with that? Did Gene plan… on going _back_ there?

The thought made him want to turn around and hide forever in the Fischoeder mansion. He hadn’t for one minute thought that Gene would want to go back there. Assuming they could even figure out _how_ to get back there.

It was strange the power of obligation. Especially when it was someone that you had known for less than a week. But it was that feeling of not wanting to let Gene down that sent him back into the Fischoeder mansion to hunt for something that could be called a “weapon”. Thankfully, it didn’t take him long. Calvin was a collector of all sorts of eccentric things and weapons, hopefully imitation ones, were among his assortments. So many, in fact, nobody would notice if a couple went missing…

-.-.-

Some ten minutes later, the door to Bob’s Burgers opened with a tinkle.

“…oh! Good mor…noon, Ken! Is that a, is that a spear?” Bob smirked at him.

Ken looked to Bob, and then to the weapon in his hand. “It’s fake, don’t worry.”

“Allrighty then,” Bob dismissed it all with a shrug. “Just keep it away from Louise, okay? Want me to shout one of them down?”

Ken nodded, and Bob backed away from his grill before hollering up the stairs. “KIDS! KEN’S HERE!”

There was an instant clamouring of noise from above. “Ken’s here! Ken’s here!” Gene bounded down the stairs, surprisingly mobile for someone who couldn’t even more yesterday. “Ken! Happy Sunday! We should celebrate with waffles!”

“We don’t have any waffles, Gene.” Bob deadpanned.

“That’s what you think, father!” Gene smirked, and strode into the restaurant bathroom. Both Ken and Bob couldn’t help but stare as the young boy emerged just moments later with not one, but an entire stack of waffles perched precariously on a too-small plate. Complete with syrup.

“Oh god… where were you hiding those?” Bob grimaced.

“Trade secret.” Gene held the plate close. He held a hand to his mouth, and ‘whispered’ to Ken. “Toilet cistern. Sshhh!”

“I heard that,” Bob frowned at him.

“No you didn’t!”

“Yes I – ohh, forget it. Ken, you’re looking a bit peaky. Want some food?”

Bob gestured to his blackboard, where it stated that today’s Burger of the Day was the ‘Hotel Kale-ifornia’

“I’ll take a Burger of the Day?”

Bob gave a double take, but recovered quickly. “Alright, comin’ up. Gene, you gonna clean up those waffles when you’re done?”

“I will lick the table clean, father!” Gene was taking an absurd amount of care in arranging his waffles into the shape of a castle or something. Bob rolled his eyes at the notion, but busied himself preparing Ken’s burger. $5.95 was a bit pricey, coming out of the remains of his $10 budget. A few minutes later, and his burger was prepared, ready and steaming on the counter.

“The walls of Waffelopolis are impenetrable! Nothing can break them!” Gene cried at the booth table as Ken sat opposite him. “Nothing except the Gene!”

In the several minutes it took for him to painstakingly sculpt his masterpiece, it took him barely thirty seconds to destroy and devour it, splashing maple syrup everywhere.

“You were violently throwing up all night, and now you’re fine again?” Bob asked through the serving window.

“I was making room!” Gene didn’t miss a beat. “And now, to clean the syrup off the floor!”

“Gene, no. Get a mop.”

“ _You_ get a mop!”

“Ugh, fine… watch the store for me then.”

Bob audibly groaned, and stomped away down into the basement, leaving just Gene and Ken alone on the restaurant floor.

“Well isn’t this super de ja vooey?” Gene was crouched over a puddle of syrup. “Did you bring weapons, Ken?”

Ken cleared his throat, and tapped the four foot long spear against the floor.

“Oohhhhh…! I thought that was a fake!” Gene exclaimed. “But I’ll need something too! Just a second!”

Into the bathroom he delved again, returning after just another moment with what looked like a keyboard?

“What?” He shrugged. “It was all I could find!”

“In a restaurant full of knives?” Ken frowned.

“You trust me with knives? Wow!” Gene looked taken aback.

 Ken sighed. This was beginning to get a bit ridiculous. “Gene, what do we even need weapons for?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Gene looked wounded. “We’ve gotta go back there!”

“Are you serious?” Ken gasped. “You… you did _see_ that thing there, didn’t you?”

Gene grimaced, looking uncharacteristically grim. “Sure I did. It was _not_ cool. It was somebody… once.” He said carefully. “They oughta be back here.”

“I mean, I guess…” Ken felt strangely ashamed at Gene’s expression of morality. He lowered his voice. “Did you tell anyone?”

“Nuh-uh. I figured you and me ought to go.”

“Yeah, but how do we _get_ there?”

“Hm,” Gene rested his chin in his palm in an exaggerated fashion. “I do _not_ know.”

“What were we doing before it happened?”

Both boys had to admit they couldn’t remember. The memory of the alley on the other side of the world and the body they had stumble across had eclipsed everything else that had happened. They sat, feeling defeated, in relative silence until Bob stepped out with Ken’s Burger of the Day.

He still didn’t feel able to eat properly. The depressing conversation from earlier hadn’t helped. He took a knife and severed the burger into two equal parts. Wordlessly, he pushed one half towards Gene. The younger boy grabbed it without hesitation, swallowing it with chewing, like a duck. Ken took a moment to savour the kale, whatever that was. His mind told him it was just fancy cabbage, but the satisfying crunch added to the moist, chewy burger in a welcome contrast. The kale tasted almost meaty and substantial and made Ken almost forget that he was eating vegetables.

No sooner had it slipped down his throat, he began to feel unwell. Maybe his body wasn’t tolerant of food yet, or maybe it was the presence of vegetables – the natural enemy of any young boy.

“Gene, where’s the customer bathroom--?” He gasped, looking up.

But Gene’s face was a similar shade of white. A sudden feeling of vertigo struck him and he felt unsteady, like he was a thousand feet off the ground rather than sitting in a raised booth. The room around him began to spin, the bright yellows and reds of the restaurant interior bleeding like watercolours running down a canvas. The temperature plummeted and as the colours faded out, like grains of sand, the familiar fog rolled in. Ken shut his eyes against the harshness of it all until the spinning sensation stopped and all was quiet.

“Hmm,” Gene sounded pensive. “What happened to my keyboard?”

Ken dared to open his eyes. Having to squint through the fog at first, he finally was able to pick out Gene. Gene’s keyboard certainly _was_ different – in that it wasn’t even a keyboard anymore. Instead, slung around a thick strap, was a tall golden harp that measured from the top of Gene’s head right the way down to his ankles. Ken was suddenly reminded of the spear he had stashed under the booth. He was disappointed to see it had remained exactly the same.

The place had changed since they entered yesterday. Visibility was far better, to the point where Ken could actually see the opposite walls of the restaurant, but there was a lot more activity as well. Enormous, lumbering masses roamed the streets outside. They looked almost gelatinous and deep purple in colour, like spilled wine, with narrow slits of glowing red eyes.

“I… I kinda, _don’t_ wanna go out there.” Gene gulped. “Those monsters look scary, and I don’t wanna get eaten!”

“We have to,” Ken muttered. “You were right, Gene. This world exists for… for a reason. And we have to find out why.”

“Okay…” Gene’s voice was hollow. “It just all seems like a really bad idea?”

Ken swallowed down his fear. This was a really bad idea. There were no two ways about it. And there was no certainty on how long they would be here for. Maximising their time sounded like the best option. Just staying in the restaurant wasn’t going to accomplish anything.

Ken grabbed his spear with both hands and the pair of young boys shivered towards the front door. The doorbell released those same four chilling notes as they made their way outside. Even the air felt different. What had existed as a vague, almost mysterious ambience before had been replaced with something that felt thick and hostile, like the claustrophobic embrace of a straitjacket.

Several of those enormous purple creatures lurched across the roads, the pavements, the back alleys… everywhere.  Ken found himself pulling closer and closer to Gene. Sure, the creatures didn’t look friendly, but how likely were they actually to attack? And if they did, the truth was he and Gene were two inexperienced kids with no real means of protecting themselves. What good were an imitation spear and a _harp_ going to do if they suddenly got jumped?

Ken signalled to Gene, and the pair of them crept towards the nearest, smallest one. That way they would at least have some idea of what they were getting into. Every inch closer the shuffled felt like half an hour. But then the ground had the foolish idea of making a noise. It was only a little noise, the tiniest ‘tap’ of Ken’s foot against pavement, but the damn thing _heard._ With a grunt, it span around, and threw long, ropey arms towards them as it gave chase.

Understandably, both boys turned tail and ran. Gene released some high pitched squeal, akin to someone far younger and girlier than himself. For every pair of footfalls, the creature doubled their efforts with ease, and had tracked them down before long.

The boys were knocked down, and the monster stood above them, breathing heavily. Its eyes brightened, and it took on a darker, almost velvety hue, before splitting into two separate shadows and cackling. The darkness faded away to reveal two golden creatures. Both were teardrop shaped, perhaps either half of a yin-yang, and sported eerie, empty eyed facial expressions.

Before either of the boys could find their feet again, one of them had suddenly lit itself on fire. As if this wasn’t weird enough, moments later the fire was launched at Gene!

The flames grazed at the arms Gene threw up to protect his face. He cried out in pain, the noise searing through Ken like it was him that had just been burned, and he fell back, vulnerable. There was another burst of flame, this one getting much closer. The scent of singed flesh hung in the air. But Ken couldn’t move. Not even when the creature’s pupil-less eyes bulged and its cohort joined in, more bursts of flames spiralling in Gene’s direction.

Ken stuttered. He couldn’t shout, couldn’t move, couldn’t do _anything._ Here he was, standing uselessly with a spear in his hands, but try as he might, he just couldn’t will himself forwards. What was a pointy stick going to do against these things? They could summon fire at will! He had a stick! There just… was no match.

The pair of creatures had circled around Gene, taking it in turns to spit fire at the cowering boy in the middle of them. He had his face covered, thankfully, but at this rate, his friend wouldn’t last long.

His friend. His _friend._ The first person his age in years that had shown any interest in him. Shown him any kindness. His friend that took him home to his family and made him feel more a part of something than his own guardian and his own _family._ He didn’t deserve that kindness. Especially as now he was standing here, watching Gene, watching his _friend_ suffer at the hands of those things. What sort of a friend was he?

His breath started coming in hitches. Despite it all, an incredible energy was building inside of Ken. His fear was melting away, and his limbs began shaking vigorously. The energy was welling up more and more, and he could’ve sworn he was glowing or something, because even the weird things with the faces had taken their attention off of Gene.

Ken’s spear fell to the ground as he raised his hands up, grasping at his hair to suppress the sudden burst of mind-numbing pain. Sweat was cascading from his brow, and he felt as though his eyes were about to burst from their sockets. A sudden wind blew up from nowhere, eliciting an almighty scream from Ken’s depths. At the point where his lungs were ready to burst, all fell calm.

Ken exhaled. “Per… so… na.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of chapter stats:
> 
> You played a good game of Salad Samurai! Your Proficiency has increased!  
> You spent some quality time with Calvin. Your relationship with him may improve soon.
> 
> Evening people. Another update for you all. This is the other half of what would've been a really long chapter. Now we're getting into the actual plot, with the fighting and the killing and the mauling. There are two kinds of Persona fans, so I'd imagine this would be good news for some, and bad news for others, but we plan to keep it as interesting and plot-twisty as possible. Thanks for reading!


	9. The Winds of Changeling

With a burst of wind that seemed strong enough to rip flesh from bone, a creature floated before Ken. A creature unlike any he had ever seen before. A small, baby sized humanoid creature with skin tinged of midnight blue and shrouded in thick folds of a black clock. Underneath the hood, Ken made out two pointed horns, unnaturally huge eyes and leathery wrinkles, which reminded him of goblins and orcs from fantasy novels.

Ken couldn’t tear his eyes away even though the pain in his head seemed to amplify the longer he stared. Little voices sprang up in the back of his mind. Was it friend or foe? Was he now in even worse trouble or was that thing somehow on his side? And where had it come from?

Another voice rose above those doubts, loud and clear, like a ringing bell.

“ _I am Changeling. As you mature, thus shall I.”_

The creature looked at Ken, fixing him with a stare that he was not frightened of. By all rights he should have been. The creature was nightmare fuel, like a wizened goblin. He was reminded of pickled creatures he had seen fermenting in jars in science class storerooms. Ken didn’t know, not for sure, that this creature – the Changeling – was here to protect him. It looked like it could kill him in an instant, probably before he would even realise what was happening.

The Changeling began to glow. Ken braced himself for assault. A shriek of pain sounded but it didn’t come from him. He wrenched his eyes open to see one of the golden teardrop monsters be swallowed up by a tight spiralling vortex of wind.

The monster fell to the ground twitching but did not get up again. The monster’s comrade, however, still seemed up for a fight. The Changeling’s glow ebbed away and it stared Ken down, blinking slowly. Ken felt like something was staring right into his soul as he followed the Changeling’s gaze across his body and down to the floor, coming to rest on the discarded spear by his feet. 

Was this a hint? Ken’s knees trembled beneath him as he knelt down and picked the spear back up. It felt heavy and full of purpose. He edged closer to the downed monster. The other was keeping its distance, more interested in watching the Changeling rather than Ken. The creature on the ground was twitching weakly every now and again. It seemed in no mood to get back up. Ken felt a lump in his throat. It was now or never.

He tightened his grip on the spear and thrust clumsily in the direction of the monster. The tip of the spear hit something solid, resisting at first until Ken pushed with all his strength. The creature’s skin burst open like an exceptionally thick balloon as the spear impaled it. The creature let out a strangled gasp and its golden colour blanched out to mottled grey. Then, with a burst of soot and smoke, the creature was gone.

The other creature had been hanging back until now. It moved in one quick, fluid movement, ramming itself into the Changeling. The Changeling staggered backwards and a surge of panic rose through Ken. If the Changeling went down, he hated to think what would happen to the two of them now…

Ken took a breath. He couldn’t leave anything to chance. Sour bile lurked in the back of his throat. He forced his feet to move and his spear pierced the creature’s membrane.  A sizzling, oily liquid oozed out of the creature as it paled and exploded into dust.

It was over. They were safe…for now. The weight of the spear in Ken’s hand seemed to increase tenfold and he dropped it to the ground with a clatter. He dropped to one knee; his breath coming in hitches. His limbs were shaking, so much that he couldn’t steady them, and a cold sweat had slicked across his entire body. What was going on? What was happening to him? Was it just exhaustion? Disbelief? Or maybe, he thought with a twist in his guts, was it guilt? Guilt over killing something?

His mouth was dry. He’d just killed a living creature. _Two_ living creatures, even. Disfigured, nightmarish hellspawn or not, that was life he’d just taken. They were dead. And he was responsible for it.

Tears bubbled in his eyes. Even if it was to save Gene, was that the right thing to do? Maybe they should’ve just run away instead? He frowned at nothing. No, that was an even dumber idea. Even if Gene could run, they would’ve just gotten chased down by another one, and have to go through all of this again.

“…Ken?”

A voice. Ken shook himself out of his daze. The Changeling disappeared in a gust of wind, and Ken noticed out of the corner of his eye that Gene was stirring again.

“Wh-what happened?”

Ken scrambled towards Gene and made an attempt to help the lad up. Somehow, his body had avoided any major damage, with only the occasional scuffmarks on his arms or legs. His shirt was sporting obvious burns though, which was going to be… _difficult_ to explain.

“Did you… save me, Ken?” It was the first time since their meeting that Gene had sounded sincere. “I remember that we were getting chased by some shadowy thing, but then it all went dark, and I could smell… bacon!” He added, his eyes lighting up.

And just like that he was back to normal. Ken rolled his eyes and nodded.

“Oh. Well I’m not sure what happened, but I owe it to you, buddy! No one’s ever stood up for me before! That’s amazing!” Gene was suddenly elated. He somehow found the strength to jump into the air, but froze instantly in reaction to a deep growling from behind him.

“M-maybe we should get outta here…?”

Ken was inclined to agree, of course he was. But exactly how did they get out of this world? He wasn’t even entirely sure that he knew how to get _in_ to the world. Last time they escaped, if he remembered correctly, they threw up. Assuming that was the trigger, what good would that do? It wasn’t like he could throw up on command. They’d have eating disorders within a week if they had to puke their way out of this world every time.

“…we need to get back.” Ken mumbled. “Let’s go back to the restaurant over there. Might be a bit safer…”

“Y-yeah, good idea,” Gene agreed. “After all, I’m allergic to being killed, and _Flashdance_ is on TV tomorrow, and I don’t wanna miss it!”

Ken retrieved his spear and the pair of them crept back towards the restaurant. The fog seemed a bit thinner now that they’d been in it for… however long they’d been here. It could have been ten minutes, it could have been three hours. Yet finding their way back seemed easy by comparison. Once again, the doorbell sent shivers down Ken’s spine as they pushed inside, but it didn’t matter. They were back in the restaurant. Safety. A good, important thing right now.

The two young men took seats opposite each other in the first booth, and only now did Ken notice just how stale the air was. Like nothing had lived here for tens, if not hundreds of years. The place just felt… saddening.

“So… what do we do now?” Gene asked.

Ken shrugged. “Find out how to get back?”

“Hmm…” Gene raised a hand to his chin and looked thoughtful. Ken was sceptical on whether his companion was actually trying to figure it out.

This was exhausting. Ken rested his head against the cold table, feeling the cool seep into his forehead. There must be some way to leave here. At least without having to force himself to throw up.

Something had been bothering him since he arrived. There had been no sign of the body since they had crossed over. Of course, it had taken him and Gene a long time of feeling around in the fog to stumble across it the first time. But the fog was thinning now. If only they weren’t so exhausted, he would have gone looking for it. Assuming the Changeling would come back too…

The Changeling was a whole other thing to consider. His head ached just trying to make sense of bodies, Changelings, monsters, spinning around in his head in a neverending spiral. No, they needed to get out for now. Get out, regroup and figure out where to go from here.

But that still didn’t give him a suggestion on how to get out. Gene didn’t seem to be full of ideas either; he was inspecting the harp slung on his back, plucking at occasional strings. How were they going to get out of here without forcing themselves to throw up? Even if that _was_ the solution. Maybe there was some kind of time limit instead? If that were the case, they probably would’ve left by now. He couldn’t be sure, but he certainly felt as though he’d been in here longer today than he had yesterday. Maybe it just felt like a longer stretch of time because of all that had happened.

His stomach seemed to agree with a timely gurgle. A spongy sort of feeling emanated from his depths, almost like a soda can decompressing.

“Whooa,” Gene belched. “My stomach is talking. It demands food!”

The thought of food seemed to stir another gurgle from Ken’s stomach. His vision lost focus for a moment, and then suddenly the room was spinning. Ken suppressed the weird, dissolving sensation in his gut, and tried his best to stay serene as colour was breathed back into the room. Like a bucket of paint had been dropped onto the building from above, the vibrant reds and yellows of Bob’s Burgers restaurant slowly filtered back in.

Ken scrunched his eyes shut to deal with the swimming feeling in his head, and suddenly reality hit like a slap to the face. There was the chinking of metal on wood as Ken’s spear fell against it, followed by what sounded like a dog barking?

“Keyboard! You’re back!” Gene was hugging his instrument to his chest.

“…oh, you’re back. How long have you two been there?” Bob frowned at them from behind the counter. “And… where did you go? I asked you guys to watch the restaurant for a minute like four hours ago, then you disappeared.”

“We were fighting monsters in a dystopian alternate universe!” Gene cried, and Ken felt his stomach twist as Bob was clearly thrown a curveball by the answer.

“…huh. A-and you didn’t watch the restaurant because…?”

At that moment, Louise popped up from… somewhere.

“Yeah, ‘cause we were _mobbed_ in the one minute you two weren’t there!” She exclaimed.

“Wouldn’t that be why dad wanted them to cover?” Tina missed the sarcasm entirely.

“Oh, it’s okay T, they left like immediately after.” Louise smirked back at her.

“Oh. Well that’s a relief.”

Ken shook his head fondly. It seemed that, despite there being people in the restaurant, they were still able to slip back into the real world unnoticed. And for whatever reason – he didn’t know why, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to – could it be that the burgers from this place seemed to be the trigger? A brief exchange of looks told him Gene was also pondering this, even if he seemed more interested in making fart noises with his keyboard.

Ken stayed until closing time at the restaurant, at which point he was shanghaied into joining the Belchers for dinner. Linda served up plates of something… unidentifiable. Whether she wasn’t the best cook or Ken was just too tired to really pay attention, he wasn’t sure. The tiredness set in like a rock as he made the long walk back to Fischoeder mansion, Ken found himself entirely too tired to humour Calvin with another game of _Salad Samurai_. Or anything at all really, if he were completely honest. He hadn’t noticed at the time, but the vitality seemed to just drain out of him since leaving that other world. Was it the atmosphere there? Was it putting an extra strain on his body?

Then again, it could’ve been the life or death combat, he supposed. Calvin was strangely understanding of his fatigue, and let him away to his room. Never before had he felt so appreciative of carpet, but the moment his shoes were kicked off, and his feet could breathe, it was sheer bliss by contrast. All that trudging around in shoes was doing a number on his heels, and much like the rest of his body, just felt sore and heavy from his experiences today.

His eyes were too heavy for him to even lament the setting sun in the evening sky. His phone buzzed with what was probably a text from Gene, but he was asleep before he could find the strength to respond.

* * *

 

It seemed like mere moments had passed when the screeching of his alarm clock dragged him awake again. Feeling so strained and tired that even his eyes hurt, Ken could register each and every body part he owned complaining as he tapped out a blurry answer to Gene on his phone. It was an effort to get himself out of bed and into clothes. He didn’t care what, as long as they fit. It was a Monday after all. No-one cared on Monday.

Gene looked as tired as he felt as they met up at the usual spot on the way to Wagstaff. Lacking his usual fervour and a shade paler than usual, the young man managed a smile and a half-hearted looking wave, and not much else. The look in Gene’s eyes held a tacit question that Ken didn’t even need to answer; they were going back there tonight.

 _How_ was a good question, and it gnawed at him all the way to school. If indeed it was the restaurant’s burgers that sent people to the other side, that would’ve meant another $5.95 coming out of his personal funds, and he currently had less than half of that, thanks to his previous food investments of yesterday’s burger and a box of chunky blast-offs.

Both of which Gene had ‘helped’ him with.

The question weighed on his mind all through school, to the point where he could barely concentrate. It wasn’t exactly paramount however, with the climax of the school day being science, where Coach Blevins presented three bananas.

“This, is a banana,” he deadpanned, holding one of the three yellow fruit in a gloved hand. “And this, is a container. _Inside_ the container, is some stuff called liquid nitrogen. It’s super cold and can freeze stuff instantly, like this.”

With a double check on his glove, Blevins dipped the banana into the container of what was essentially smoky water. He lifted it out again a few seconds later, only for it to come up crystallised and pale.

“Voila, frozen.” Blevins didn’t even adjust his glasses. “Now, as you can see on the table, we’ve got three bananas. And three choices; a hammer, a knife, and a vice. Since there are three…”

Like a jet engine, excitement suddenly exploded among the kids. Ken was snapped out of his thoughts, only to get caught in the mania of young kids jumping about and screaming.

“Me! Me! Pick me, Coach Blevins!”

“Alright alright, simmer down, kids,” Blevins raised a hand to try and quiet them all. “You’ll all get to see, don’t worry. I won’t ask for volunteers, ‘cause you’ll all wanna do it, so instead I’m just gonna pick. Okay first up… new kid. Ken, was it?”

The energy and excitement was quickly washed out, and replaced with a dense, almost brusque ambience.

“Why’s the _new kid_ get to do it?”

“What makes him so special?”

Ken could feel the heat of their glares on his skin, almost like it were intensified through a magnifying glass, but steadied his nerves and approached Blevins. The gym coach gave him a curt nod, and gestured to the three implements between them.

Ken took a moment to consider; which would be most fun?

The hammer: Obvious destruction, no question. Great power, but over in seconds.

The knife: Less exciting, but more varied in the approach. A stabbing action or a sawing movement could both work, and probably some other ways he hadn’t thought of yet.

And the vice… Ken wasn’t exactly sure what would happen with that one. It was one of those self-powered things, meaning he wouldn’t get any actual control over it. What was the point in gratuitous destruction if you had to surrender that power to a machine?

Eventually, Ken decided that the satisfaction of the knife would edge out the instant gratification of the hammer. Someone with a shorter attention span could get that one.

“...Knife?”

“Surprising,” Blevins frowned at him. “A-anyway, I’m not supposed to let you use these things, but it’s Monday, and you kids looked a bit dead-eyed this morning, so… be super careful and wear goggles, okay? Long as your eyes are safe, your parents can’t sue.”

Ken held back his scoff at ‘parents’. Feeling stupid long before he strapped the goggles on, where the elastic snapped and stung at the back of his head, he took a moment so his eyes could adjust, and felt around for the knife. It was a simple butter knife, but with the state the banana was in, Ken doubted that would’ve made a difference. With little effort, the serrated edge pierced, and the fruity flesh crumbled from the contact, shattering into little chunks as he worked the knife through. Ken took the knife out again, and tried a sawing motion in a different part, where the ‘layers’ of banana fell away with ease.

The class seemed entirely unimpressed by it all though, so Blevins sent him on his way with a few half-assed claps.

“Alright, good work Ken. Note how the banana peeled away in layers, kids. That’s real important. Okay, next up…”

Suddenly the crowds began to whirr in excitement again.

“Gene. Your turn.”

Immediately the excitement withered. But Gene himself was understandably ecstatic. Ken didn’t even need to guess which one he would pick. Before Ken could even process movement, Gene had already grabbed the hammer from the table. Blevins had barely placed the frozen banana onto the table when Gene had buried the hammer into it, shattering the fruit and exploding yellow mush all over the place.

“…you were supposed to put on the goggles first, Gene.” Blevins sounded more surprised than displeased. “Ehh, long as you didn’t hurt yourself. For the last one… how about Courtney?”

“Huh?” That blonde girl from the other day piped up. With the locket from her necklace well and truly in her mouth, she toddled forwards. “M-me, Coach Blevins?”

“…if you wanna?” Blevins shrugged. “Course, I can just offer it to one of the other kids if you don’t,” he gestured to the animated crowds behind her. “I’m sure they’d be more than willing.”

Courtney stole a glance at her peers, and the smallest of smiles curled at her lips.

“Ugh, here we go…” Gene muttered to Ken.

“Okay,” she slurped. “But I’m not very good at lifting stuff, because I have a-“

“-congenital heart condition!” Gene echoed her lip movements. “It’s like she can’t breathe without sayin’ it…”

“Well actually I _can’t_ breathe without help sometimes, _Gene_.” Courtney had obviously heard him.

 Ken frowned. A heart condition that affected her ability to breathe? He was no doctor, but that sounded fishy.

Blevins had finished submerging the third banana into the liquid nitrogen, and then placed it on top of a metal platform.

“Don’t worry about lifting anything, Courtney,” he explained. “I called it a ‘vice’, but it’s basically a hydraulic press, and it can crush pretty much anything. So we’re really kinda wasting it on a banana, y’know? Anyway, just push this button here and that’s all you gotta do.”

“Oh? Well that’s easy.” Courtney deadpanned, and hit the button. A little red light began flashing at the top of the metal contraption, which slowly closed in on the banana beneath it. Eventually the two panels squashed together, and banana slush spilled out in a horrible, viscous mess. A loud, resounding ‘ewwwww!’ escaped the many students, with a couple of awed gasps peppered in.

“…and that’s how you make a huge mess of the science lab,” Blevins adjusted his glasses. “Right, hope you kids learned something today, otherwise I’ve just wasted a lesson destroying bananas. Those of you who volunteered, thanks for your help,”

Ken felt a little bubble of pride burst within him at Blevins’ mention.

“-and we’ll recap… tomorrow? Wednesday? When do I see you next?”

There was a vague murmuring from the class.

“You don’t know either?” Blevins’ forehead creased. “Well uhh… next time. We’ll recap next time.”

The gaggle of students slowly filtered out of science like sand through an hourglass, and smoothly transitioning into lunch. Despite how tired he had been earlier, Gene now seemed oddly excitable. Even stranger, he didn’t line up at the cafeteria, rather just bee-lined for the nearest table.

“…not having sloppy joe?” Ken mustered up the effort.

“Nnnnope!” Gene extracted a brown paper bag from his backpack. “I’ve got something even sloppier and joeyer for lunch today! Da, da da daahhh!”

Like some cliché out of a movie, Gene pulled one of his dad’s burgers from the bag.

“I asked dad to make me one,” he explained. “He asked why, but I got around that by just saying I didn’t ‘feel’ like sloppy joe today! Then he said ‘whatever’ and made me one! I forget what’s in it.”

Ken took a moment to stare at the innocuous burger in Gene’s hands. Once was nothing; twice, a weird coincidence. If the same thing happened a third time, there would be absolutely no doubt that these burgers – who cared why? – were their ticket to the other world.

If that were the case, Ken was going to have to start making some serious money. He couldn’t afford $5.95 every day, dammit.

“W-we’re doing this here?” He asked. The school cafeteria was literally full of people, with almost every table taken up with at least one or two lunch-goers. Even Louise and Tina could be spied, shuffling their way through the serving queue.

“Sure!” Gene’s ambivalence was astounding. “It’ll be cold, but that’s fiiiine!”

Ken grimaced. That really wasn’t his concern.

“Oh, and it also kinda works as a test!” Gene suddenly sounded knowledgeable. “I-if it even works at all, that is. Isn’t it weird we always start at the same place when we go over there? Well what if we go to a different place from here? A-and what if we can do this in a crowded place without anyone noticing?”

“…but what if they do notice?” Ken had to address that elephant.

Gene slowly lowered his announcing finger, and then curled it around his chin.

“Hmm…” he mused. “Well, if that happens, we’ll cross that bridge as we come to it! Now are ya with me, partner?”

Gene had acquired a knife from somewhere, and cut the burger into halves. He handed a half to Ken, and the pair of them shared a glance before taking a bite.

The room distorted for a moment, and then both young men were gone.

“H-hey Gene, d’you mind if I sit with…” Courtney began, walking up to their table, “…you?” She looked up from her tray and then around. “Wh-where’d he go?”

No matter where she looked, neither Gene nor that new kid could be seen.

“What the hell?”

Courtney turned around to find both Louise and Tina standing behind her, also with trays in hand.

“Where’d Gene and Ken go?!” Louise spluttered, staring daggers at their abandoned table.

“I-I was just asking the same thing…” Courtney lisped.

She, Tina and Louise shared the same confused expression.

“…well, time to find someone else to sit with, huh T?” Louise nudged her sister, who took the hint. The Belchers turned tail and away, leaving Courtney alone and staring at the same table.

“Weird. It was like he just… disappeared…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter stats:
> 
> You understood the teacher's lesson! Your Knowledge has increased!
> 
> Hey guys, another wee update for you. Bit of a transitional sorta chapter, with some foreshadowing where Courtney and the sisters are concerned. Now that Ken and Gene know how to get both in and out of the other world, the plot can progress a bit more.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave feedback if you've got a moment. :)


	10. Snakes on a Plane

After a few moments of distorted confusion, both Gene and Ken were vomited out into the haunting, familiar greys of the ‘other world’. But, as Gene had somehow predicted, they hadn’t entered into the ‘other’ restaurant. Instead it was the hollowed out, dilapidated shell of Wagstaff cafeteria. Broken chairs and stools littered the floor, peppered in with smashed glass and a thick, oppressive atmosphere that made the hairs on the back of Ken’s neck stand up.

“Hmm. A big improvement.” Gene raised a hand to his chin. “I _especially_ like the – oh, hey, Keyboard!”

Only now did Gene notice that he had his keyboard – or, harp – sitting on a nearby table. That was convenient at best and terrifying at worst.  Ken noted that his spear was there too, oddly enough. Certainly couldn’t be written off as just a fluke. Just what _was_ this world?

They weren’t alone in this endless greyscale, however. Just like last time, those awful purple _things_ lurched the hallways and classrooms. Now armed with his helpful little Changeling, Ken had to admit that they seemed far less scary than before. But he still didn’t want to be trapped in a dark room with one of them.

Spear in hand, Ken gave Gene a nod – it was amazing what surviving mortal peril could do to a friendship. It was almost as if the two boys could read each other’s minds. They knew exactly what to do. Clutching their weapons, they crept down the long, dank corridors.  The less attention they drew the better, after all.

He couldn’t help but notice that these purple shadow creatures varied in size. Some of them barely reached his knee in height – he estimated, of course – but others were towering behemoths, scarcely fitting within the walls of the room. Were the bigger ones stronger? Or was that all just a clever deception? Either way, he didn’t want them chasing him down like last time. If there was going to be any fighting involved, he was going to initiate it.

While their backs were turned, of course. It wasn’t cowardice, it was opportunism.

These creatures seemed intimidating, but thankfully none too bright. So long as he and Gene stayed out of sight, didn’t make too much noise, Ken reasoned that they’d be able to make a fair distance without getting caught. If they were... well, he had a spear. That was better than nothing.

“Do you think that this world is the same as our one?” Gene hissed the loudest whisper Ken had ever heard. A shadow monster thing grunted in response, and its ‘eyes’ floated over towards the wall that the two young men had just crouched behind.

Ken pressed a finger against his lips. “Sshh…!”

“Oh, right…” Gene nodded. “I just think it might be worth mentioning…”

Ken contemplated Gene’s ‘idea’ in his mind. It did hold some weight, after all. Everywhere they’d been in this world was an exact, albeit dystopian, mirror of the real world. Logic dictated that-

Suddenly, a crack beneath his foot. Ken’s train of thought came to a sudden stop as he realised it was glass under his weight. Only a tiny piece of glass, yet the crack it produced was like a gunshot, it was so loud. Loud enough that Gene yelped, and loud enough that it attracted the attention of a shadow creature from the next room. It grunted, and started slithering towards them, throwing out heavy arms in their direction.

Ken half-choked, and then swallowed it down instantly, flattening himself against the nearest wall. Gene flailed on the spot for a moment, but followed in Ken’s footsteps with his harp at the ready. Ken had never noticed just how badly his hands shook until recently, but now, when he needed them the most, they quivered like a falling leaf. He cursed himself inwardly at how bad he was under pressure. Life or death situation, sure, but harden up dammit!

The shadow creature loomed past the doorway and into the hall where they were crouched beneath the window. Its glowing red eyes slowly scanned the area in front of it. _Don’t turn right, don’t turn right…_

Ken’s heart was in his throat. He could feel the pulsating blood splintering his scalp with every beat his feeble organ forced out. Every second felt like hours as this monster sniffed them out, like some kind of terrifying bloodhound. But Ken thanked his lucky stars when the thing turned _left._

His spear rattled in his hands. It was now or never.

With a gulp and a tremor, he tightened his grip on the weapon, and thrust it into the monster’s depths. It recoiled, and writhed, then split into two separate shadows.

Gene and Ken took their positions in the middle of the hallway. The two creatures that came from the original one didn’t look much different, Ken had to admit. Somewhat resembling a really angry slug, the two bright green blobs of matter stared the two boys down. But unlike the last time, they weren’t immediately on the offensive. Why, if Ken didn’t know better, he would’ve said they were confused and reeling. Did they really have the upper hand here?

Suddenly a huge amount of pressure had been lifted. There might have been two of them compared to just him, but he could even those odds with a mere summon of his Changeling.

But then another question sprung up; how?

His eyes widened a little. Last time the Changeling just appeared when he seemed to need it most; after all, Gene was getting attacked, and he didn’t want to lose his only friend in this world. So what was the trigger? Was he just going to have to bank on it randomly turning up? That was not a very efficient strategy.

Out of the corner of his eye, Gene shot him a worried look. Yep. It was official. He was making an ass of himself.

Ken looked him back, tried to tell him it was all okay without words, because these things probably could smell fear or something. He then dug his hands into his pockets, because what else could he do? If he was going to have to rely on some supernatural being to fight for him, he had to learn how to reliably summon it and quickly.

Ken cursed internally. A manual would’ve really been useful right now. He wouldn’t read it, but he could at least have it, and complain about it when things didn’t go well. Like right now.

All sorts of things tumbled out of his pockets; loose change, a ball of fluff, folded up paper… nah, deities probably didn’t deal in origami. But then a little cardboard box clattered to the ground, and something inside of it rattled.

“Huh?”

Ken knelt down, not taking his eye off the nearest of the slimy creatures, and picked up a box of chunky blast-offs of all things. Huh. Looks like Gene didn’t eat them all. Half a dozen or so rattled in the box when he shook it, and instantly Gene perked up. But interestingly enough, so did the Changeling. Almost cheesily on cue, the little blue goblin thing appeared in a puff of smoke. Weirder still, the thing looked to him, then the box of chocolate, and then to him again. Deities and demons really traded their power for candy? Not souls or something?

 _‘Something shared, is something gained’_ the creature spoke to him. That didn’t answer anything. All it did was remind Ken of that guy from the space show. Why would this thing have the same voice?

He reasoned, it was speaking to his mind, and maybe it was his subconscious creating a voice he recognised in order to make it sound friendlier, thus…

Ken shook his head and frowned. It probably wasn’t that deep.

But still, this goblin thing was expecting him to ‘share’ his candy with it, and those slimy things weren’t going to wait around forever. He looked into the box and shook at again. Ah well. Six attempts to get it right.

He shook two out of the box, handed one to Gene, and tossed the other into his mouth. Sweet, sweet chocolate cuddled his palate for mere, blissful moments, yet the Changeling seemed entirely unimpressed by it all. Looks like that wasn’t the way.

Out of the box tumbled another chunky blast-off. Ken held this one into the air, where it quickly faded away into nothing. Was that it?

The Changeling blinked, and began glowing a soft greenish colour. Suddenly, a vortex of wind exploded from nowhere, surrounding the nearest of the slimy creatures and knocking it back.

“S-stay back, Gene,” Ken insisted. He didn’t want his best friend getting injured again. Not without something to defend himself with. Gene obviously didn’t need telling twice, as the boy was at the end of the corridor about as quickly as he could shift his chubby legs.

“I’ll cheer for you from afar!” he hissed back.

Ken frowned, and turned back to see both the slime creatures staring him down. Oh yeah. Those.

With a gulp, he summoned the Changeling once again, and had to dive out of the way as the first of the slimes tried to headbutt him. It missed horribly, but its cohort was more successful, connecting and knocking him back.

Ken blinked away stars. This wasn’t good. Even with the Changeling supporting him, he was still outnumbered, and he couldn’t take these sort of hits forever. These things were made of some seriously painful stuff.

But the Changeling had his back, countering with another blast of air and vanquishing the first of the two slimes. The other one lunged at him and missed narrowly, allowing Ken to slash at it with his spear. The creature seemed unfazed by the physical assault however, and it even had the gall to counter-attack, fixing Ken with a decidedly evil glare. What it was supposed to do, he wasn’t sure, but the piercing glare of those acid green eyes had him transfixed. Next thing he knew, the thing had propelled itself into his stomach, doubling him over.

His spear scraped across the ground, and he fell to one knee, wheezing. A vile, metallic taste exploded in his mouth, and his vision was spotting. This was bad.

His laboured attempts to stand back up were interrupted by a strange blue glow, emanating from Changeling. The glow pulsed once, and faded away, and then Ken immediately felt his strength returning to him. Suddenly he could breathe again, and the awful taste of blood was gone. He admittedly stumbled as he stood back up, but nevertheless could wield his spear again, which was something. Gripping it with both hands, he slashed at the slime, which at least seemed to damage the thing, pushing it back a bit. It again swung itself forward to attempt another headbutt, but this time missed, and Changeling struck again with another wind attack, exploding the slime into black smoke.

Changeling blinked, and disappeared in another burst of light. Ken felt the vitality drain from him almost instantly, now that the adrenaline of battle had gone. Were things always going to be this exhausting?

Anyway. Time to find Gene again.

Wiping his brow, Ken span back around. If memory served, Gene had ran off that way, to ‘cheer for him from afar’. Yeah, that was it. So it stood to reason that he’d still be over there.

Fortunately none of those weird purple shadows were nearby, so Ken could be a bit less subtle with his creeping about. But no matter how many corners he poked his nose around, Gene was nowhere to be found. Ken groaned. Surely he hadn’t gone too far? Surely he had the brain cells needed to realise that maybe he shouldn’t wander off in a place this dangerous?

But then again, Ken supposed he wouldn’t have to be looking for him if he hadn’t wandered off. What was he thinking?

What felt like eons later, with some cunning shadow dodging, he eventually stumbled across the young man, staring off into the distance down the end of a corridor, unmoving.

The hair on the back of Ken’s neck stood up. No matter how much he wanted to vent at Gene for disappearing on him, there was definitely something wrong here. Something almost palpable in the air. Gene was _never_ still. Yet here he was, not moving a muscle.

“…Gene?” Ken finally whispered. “Is… is that you?”

“Gene?” He spoke. Except his voice sounded wrong. Less tone, and more arrogant, like a smug lecturer. “Yessss, I’ve been called that.”

The young man turned around, and Ken couldn’t hold back a gasp when their eyes met. This Gene had bright yellow eyes, compared to the brownish something or other than Ken was used to, and a far more slender, almost scaly sort of face. What on earth?

Ken’s grip tightened on his spear. Was this one of this world’s tricks? Weird, evil sounding clones of everyone? Did that mean he had one?

“Oh, Ken! There you are!” Came the familiar voice from behind him, making him jump. Gene – that is, the actual Gene – caught up to him. “I’ve been looking _everywhere_ for you in this desolate waste… land?”

Gene shuffled to a halt, and a frowned creased his features. Harp casually under one arm, he glanced to Ken, and then the yellow-eyed clone of him opposite. While one looked confused, the other continued to sneer back.

“…is this like that hall of mirrors down at the Wonder Wharf?” He asked. He raised his free arm, obviously expecting the other Gene to do the same, and his frown deepened when the other one remained unmoving.

“Hmm.” He looked pensive. “Are you my brother…?”

“On the contrary!” ‘Gene’ spat back. “I am you, or rather, the one you keep insssside!”

The other Gene snickered, and Ken could’ve sworn he spied a long, thin, forked tongue escaping his mouth.

“You’re… inside me?” There was a definite quaver in Gene’s voice now. “Like, like my heart or something?”

“Not… quite.” The other Gene scorned. “Tell me, _Gene_. What do you fear?”

“Fear?” The real Gene was clearly thrown a curveball there. “I uhh, I dunno? What _do_ I fear? Clowns? Mermaids? Bill Murray?!”

A rattling noise brushed past the two young men however, and Gene gave a yelp of fright after looking down to see what it was.

“Snake?!” He jumped about three feet into the air, dashing away from the rattlesnake so quickly that he was almost a blur. “S-snake, snake, SNAKE!”

“Oh, you don’t like these?” The other Gene snickered. He knelt down in front of the rattlesnake, where it coiled itself around his arm and slithered up his body, then across his shoulders like a scarf made of silk and leather.

“This is no time for a fashion statement!” Gene’s back was against a wall. “Liberace would be ashamed of you!”

“Deflecting, are we?” The other Gene chuckled softly. “How fitting for you. Toxic, deceiving. Very snakelike.”

“N-no! I’m nothing like a snake! They’re all creepy and slithery, and they don’t have any arms or legs!” Gene cried. The poor kid was cowering in a corner as snakes of all kinds crawled across the floor. Ken wasn’t even sure where they’d all come from, but was afraid to even move for all the snakes on the floor. He had to help Gene somehow, but… how?

Since meeting Gene, Ken had noted just how unusually placid the boy was, seeming entirely unperturbed by just about any situation. But right now, that casual dignity he typically radiated was nowhere to be seen. Arms wrapped tightly around his knees, with his head tucked in for safety, easy-going, unflappable Gene looked well and truly terrified.

“No no, I’m not afraid,” he muttered to himself, peering out from behind his knees and then burying himself further. “They’re just s…snakes, just snakes! Not afraid… n-n-not afraid!”

“Not afraid? Hah.” The other Gene taunted. “Show me how not afraid you are!”

At the point of his finger, the rattlesnake across his shoulders leapt forward, meandering towards Gene. Its tail rattled melancholically as it closed in, rearing up, baring its fangs…

Gene picked entirely the wrong time to look out from behind his knees again. For he was staring into the beady eyes and gaping maw of a hungry rattlesnake. Some kind of noise escaped him, and he swung his arm at the snake, “N-not afraid!”

But out of his hand shot a flurry of ice, which coated the snake and shattered it!

“Huh?!” Gene looked more surprised than anyone. The flowing river of snakes on the floor began rippling away from him, and the boy found his strength again, shakily getting back to his feet. In front of him, a strange, cold energy began to glow, and from it burst a creature. A decidedly wet looking monster, seemingly a mound of seaweed with glowing, yellow eyes. Strangely enough, it carried some stringed instrument with it. A violin? A fiddle? Either way, not important. Gene had just summoned a weird seaweed monster that could shoot ice. Go figure.

“Hmm.” The other Gene seemed entirely unimpressed. Maybe because his scarf snake had just been killed. “So you’re ready to face your fears? Prepare yourself!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there everyone. Firstly, sorry for the long time between updates. Both OceanSpiral and myself have been pretty busy as of late, what with her becoming a teacher and me (hopefully) getting into uni. Secondly, sorry for the poor excuse for a title. I couldn't think of anything better lol.
> 
> Anyway, feel free to leave some feedback. It's always appreciated. Over and out. :)


	11. Snakes on a Plane: The Sequel No One Asked For

The writhing mass of snakes on the floor that separated the real Gene from the Shadow Gene froze, just momentarily. Ken’s heart allowed itself a brief hope before it too was dashed. The snakes started to grow, doubling, tripling in size. Then, they bean merging together, slowly fusing with the body of the other Gene into a wealth of ominous black.  
Taking his chances, Ken darted across to where Gene was still frozen in fear, the creature he had summoned swaying lazily in front of him. He grabbed Gene, figuring the weird seaweed thing could take care of itself.

The snakes continued to fuse together. Occasional bursts of light would escape from the dark nova, accompanied by an uncomfortable, rough, squelching noise. With a sound like damp sandpaper, it continued to grind with every wriggle and thrash that emanated from the pulsing shadow. The energy eventually dissipated to reveal a solitary figure. Surprisingly humanoid and painfully thin, Ken was surprised by how little it surprised him that the figure was that of a woman. It struck him that maybe he’d just gotten used to bizarre in the few days he had been here.

Tall and skeletal, this woman had skin pale and ashen, with a viciously prominent jawline. Her long, glistening black hair ran smooth until halfway down her back, until shiny, leathery scales started to encroach, complete with a hissing snake at the end.

Ken didn’t have to consult any history or mythology books to know who this was.

Medusa’s eyes remained firmly shut. This was without a doubt a good thing. In fact, Medusa hardly seemed to move at all. The only thing that seemed to move was the snake at the end of her hair. It must be communicating for her, he mused, as the snake coiled around her shoulders and neck, its forked tongue flitting in and out. Ken glanced and Gene and gave him a firm nod. His face was still pale and twisted with fear, but he shouldered his harp nonetheless. Even Ken’s spear felt slippery in his hands. As the two readied themselves, Medusa’s snake fixed its yellow beady eyes on them and hissed. Both boys nearly dropped their weapons.

“Not afraid of snakes… n-not afraid of snakes!” Gene kept muttering to himself, harp quivering in his arms as he struck a few chords. Multi-coloured notes fluttered out of the instrument, before suddenly taking speed and launching themselves at the snake. Its eyes dilated, and it hissed again, recoiling up and launching a counterattack by stretching itself out to an impossibly long length, clearing the several metres between Medusa and Gene in mere seconds. Ken saw a flash of white teeth sink into Gene’s shoulder and he moved as if someone else was pulling the strings. He dashed forward while the creature was still embedded in Gene’s shoulder and slashed with his spear. The spear met the sinewy body of the snake and with a determined, but clumsy, hack, Ken felt the snake’s flesh splinter and tear. With a spurt of crimson, the part that was still attached to Medusa thrashed wildly for a few moments, while the head shrivelled up and fell to the floor.

A scowl touched at Medusa’s face, and she opened her eyes, assaulting the boys with her chilling, bright yellow gaze. Ken wanted to yell out a warning, knowing immediately they were in trouble, but he found he couldn’t. Both boys were completely transfixed at her cat-eye stare, and next thing anyone knew, there was a sudden snapping sound, followed up by an icy spell identical to the one Gene had used earlier. It shattered on Ken, who was thrown back by the impact.

Ken winced, and rubbed at his sore elbow. That icy attack left his fingers trembling, and his touch feeling hot, cold and numb at the same time. He was shaking so badly that he could barely even grip his spear. So instead of a physical assault, he summoned his Changeling, who did the work for him and attacked with a spiral of wind.

“Uhh… how was it that you did… that thing?” Gene had the audacity to ask. Ken dug about in his pockets and he retrieved the box of Chunky Blast-Offs from earlier. Gene grabbed at them, Ken having a vision of him emptying the entire box down his throat. So instead, he took a step back and tossed his friend a single Chunky Blast Off. Gene’s look of betrayal thankfully lasted only seconds as he lifted the tasty snack into the air. It disappeared in a flash, and the bipedal mass of seaweed suddenly returned. It stared into Gene’s depths with its lifeless, yellow eyes. Without seeming to move, a long, deep chord was struck from the creature’s fiddle – if that’s what it even was – and suddenly Medusa was knocked back from the impact.

Gene let out a cry of triumph but Medusa didn’t seem bothered by his effort. She smirked, and raised a lazy arm. She snapped her fingers again, and Gene was lucky to dodge another flurry of ice. Both boys were on the front foot this time, where Ken struck her again with his spear, and Gene’s creature had the genius foresight to illuminate Ken with some bright sparkly stuff. Suddenly invigorated, he could feel his strength returning to him, and even the pain in his elbow seemed to dissolve away.

“How did you do that?” Ken asked in amazement. Gene could only shrug in return. The snake, split in two for the second time, fell to the ground in pieces. Ken shot Gene an eager smile, his grip tightened on his spear for a follow up attack, but they were interrupted by a flash of blinding light. After it faded, the two boys saw Medusa standing completely still, eyes shut. Her snake-hair strand lit up, and began growing again, but instead of simply re-forming into another snake, it split and formed two.  
“Wait, two snakes now?” Gene trembled. “That’s double not good! One was bad enough!”

The two snakes hissed in unison as they stared the two boys down. One lunged without warning, again stabbing two fangs into Gene’s shoulder. The same shoulder he had already taken a hit to. He predictably flailed, and knocked the head away again, but that left him wide open to the other snake, which came flying in to attack his flailing arm. With a noise like a tyre being punctured, the snake seized Gene’s arm. Blood splattered across the floor.

“Uuurrrrgh, I’m not supposed to lose that!” Gene yelped, and clenched his fist, finally shaking the snake free. A crimson ribbon streaked down his arm, and he shivered from the sight of it. “S-seaweed buddy, help!”

His creature appeared again at his command and summoned the weird healing sparkles, which quickly mopped up Gene’s injury. Ken seized his chance, slashing at one of the two snakes with his spear. Deep wounds tore into the snake’s skin, but it remained stubbornly attached this time. Both snakes stared Ken down this time, with the first attacking with its fangs, and the second releasing a bizarre, purple gas. Ken made the mistake of inhaling it, and instantly felt his organs wither. His lungs felt as though they had turned to lead, a solid block of pain within his chest, while his skin broke out in clammy itching. Ken gulped down what tasted like bile and vomit. He couldn’t throw up here, else all this hard work would go to waste. With a deep breath, he grasped at his spear, and stumbled towards Medusa, plunging his weapon into one of the snakes. It flailed from the impact before splitting off almost immediately, falling to the ground and turning to ashes.

Again, Medusa’s eyes opened, and the two boys were subjected to her piercing gaze.

”Agh!” Gene flinched away from her stare, and struck a crescendo of strings on his harp as he did so. Again the rainbow hued notes rose out of the instrument, before launching themselves into Medusa. Each of the several hits knocked her back a few inches, but she seemed just as healthy as ever. Medusa sneered at the both of them, before clapping her hands together. A wave of energy radiated from where she had clapped, and whooshed towards Gene. Before Gene’s expression could so much as change, the energy around him stiffened.

And then so did he. His entire body froze up, a lifeless husk. Unblinking, unmoving, un... anything.

That was a concern. Was he still aware? Alive, even? Either way, Ken needed to figure out how to fix it, else join him. And there was no way they were solving this big mystery together if they were both petrified. At least that was the assumption. This was Medusa after all. Ken gulped, and wrenched his gaze away from the immobilised Gene. There was still a snake lady to deal with, after all.

Changeling appeared at his summons and shot a vortex of wind at her, while Ken braced himself for another blast of ice in return. Medusa snapped her fingers, and the all too familiar flurry shattered across his body. Again, angry bile reared up in his stomach, and he stumbled. By the time he could prop himself back up with his spear, Medusa had closed her eyes again and her hair was aglow.

Ken’s vision was going spotty. He was starting to feel weak and dizzy. As he tried desperately to regain himself, he saw a second, then a third snake sprouting from the stump. The ground beneath him was starting to wobble. Whatever that purple gas was from earlier, it was taking its toll now. Ken drew his spear across his body, barely fending off the first of three snakes as it ended up lunging his spear instead of his body. That trick only worked once though, with the second piercing his shoulder, and then the third puncturing his side.

His limbs were trembling now. He could barely lift his left arm anymore, and a thin veil of purple was invading his vision. He knew he shouldn’t be questioning if these snakes were poisonous, but his thoughts were becoming foggier by the minute. If he didn’t finish this soon, he was going to end up like one of those rotting corpses from his nightmares.  
With what was left of his strength, he wrenched his spear and tore at one of the snakes. He felt something rip, and another snakehead fell to the ground. Just as he collapsed, his wrist taking the full impact.

His breathing was sharp, coming in hitches. The spots on his vision were practically glowing now, and what little he could see was flickering. His fingers, splayed out beneath him, were blurring in and out. Ken tried to summon the strength to stand back up, but it just wouldn’t come. Whatever he had left in the tank seemed to be enough to keep him conscious, and little else. Suddenly, there was a sharp clap, and every muscle in his body stopped trembling. As much as he willed it, he couldn’t move or even blink.

His mind was buzzing overtime. This must’ve been what happened to Gene. But what now? Were they both fated to die here? Discover a new, mysterious alternate world, only to never solve the mystery and instead end up becoming a part of it?

His thoughts twisted and writhed about themselves, and he could feel his eyes wanting to well up over it all. For a moment, he was grateful his body was frozen. At least that way no one would see him like this, all pathetic and crying on his deathbed. But then his ears pricked up on a voice;

“N-no! You leave him alone!”

By some miracle, it seemed like Gene was able to move again. Was there a time limit on this petrifying spell? Could Medusa keep only one person frozen at a given time?  
Either way, he was past caring at this point. Staying conscious was enough of a struggle. A sudden explosion of cold knocked Medusa back out of his peripheral vision, followed by a barrage of what Ken could only assume was hits from Gene’s harp, what with the stroke of each note quickly followed by a sharp smacking noise. Medusa screeched in pain, a snapped her fingers, retaliating with what must have been another flurry of ice in Gene’s direction. But the assault seemed to barely even faze him, as the young man was on the counterattack almost instantly.

”I’m... not...” a whole slew of notes were plucked from his harp, “afraid... of... snakes!”

The consecutive salvos of notes struck Medusa in a crescendo of noise and light. There was a sudden explosion of heat as something ignited, and Ken felt some strength return to his limbs. He wrenched his aching head upwards just in time to see bursts of light explode across Medusa’s body. Her snakes went up in flame, burning down to mere cinders, and with a piercing shriek, the snake lady evaporated into nothing.

“I’m fed up with snakes on this plane!” Gene cried, lowering his harp at last. Suddenly, his sensibilities kicked back in. “...! Ken!”

He scrambled to pick his buddy up off the floor.

”...plane?” Ken managed to choke out.

”Yeah, you know, plane! Like, plane of existence?” Gene explained. “Hm, maybe now I can actually watch that film, since I faced my fear, and I beat up some lady, and I-“  
But Gene was stopped mid-sentence. With Medusa’s disappearance, the mist had begun to thin out, and both of them clapped eyes on a dishevelled figure in one corner.

”...I think I preferred the snakes.” Gene whispered. But Ken swallowed down the bile in his throat, and staggered over towards it. That snake’s venom must’ve been wearing off or something, because he could find the strength to lift his limbs, even shuffle forwards. The nausea was still there, strong as ever, but he wasn’t coughing up vital fluids any more, which was a good thing.

”K-Ken, wait!” Gene threw a hand out to stop him. “What if something bad happens?”  
”You said it yourself, Gene.” Ken took in a deep breath through the mouth. The stench radiating from this corpse was enough to make his eyes water. “This world exists for a reason, and we’re the only ones who know. S-so we gotta fight... fight for those who can’t.”

”B-but that was just to sound inspiring!” Gene flailed. “That is not a person!”

”...but it was once.” Ken touched the decaying figure’s shoulder, and grimaced as it oozed on him. “With a family, and friends, a-and dreams. How would you feel if this was you? Or one of your sisters?”

”W-well I would very much mind being dead!” Gene insisted. “And that is in spite of all the world’s best musicians being dead! Except for the immortal Ringo St-“

”Gene.”

”...oh yeah,” Gene lowered his arm again. “Sorry Ken, I got carried away. You... you’re right, buddy. We can’t just let them rot here. Where’s the dignity in that?!”

Ken nodded. “So we’re taking them back?”

”Are you sure we can?” Gene frowned. Ken shrugged in response. He was really hoping he could let go of this rotting body as soon as possible, but as far as his knowledge of this world stretched, physical contact was the only way he’d be able to take the body with him. And he didn’t even know if that would work. So he supposed he just had to stand there, holding onto a dead body and feeling incredibly stupid all the while.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait long before the telltale rumble in his stomach. With an unfortunate belch escaping his depths, he again felt woozy as colours began to bleed back into the world. This time, instead of the reds and yellows of Bob’s restaurant, it was the greys of tarmac and asphalt, and the off white, slightly mouldy looking pastel pink shade of what looked like an office block.

The two boys found themselves down some alleyway in the middle of town, with the dull blare of traffic offending the ears. Suddenly, the gravity of his situation sunk in. Ken retched, and let go of the decaying body he’d been holding onto for the past who knows how long. He couldn’t cover his face because both of his hands were filthy, and there wasn’t exactly a place to wash them nearby, so that left him with only the option of standing there and flailing, as his eyes streamed from the sheer stench.

”H-hold on Ken! I’ll go get someone!” Gene cried. Next thing Ken knew, people were clamouring around them like they were a zoo exhibit, each uttering a clatter of mutters which simply escalated into an incomprehensible noise.

* * *

 

The phone was practically vibrating, it was ringing that fervently. A clammy hand slowly reached for it, and answered with a pointed sigh. “...yeah.”

The chair creaked underneath his weight as he twisted around and whistled. The speaker on the other side was just interesting enough to keep his attention.

”Dead body... two young boys... alleyway on Jackson Street?” That one actually caused a rise. “...right. I’ll make my way there. Probably.”

The man put the phone receiver back down, and made sure to polish his badge.

”About time something happened in this dingy town.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Chrysler everyone. Here be an update. Sorry it took like three months - I thought it was already uploaded D:
> 
> Anyway, feel free to leave feedback. It's always appreciated. :3


	12. Making a Meal Of It

_Snap!_

The scorching glare of a desk lamp flashed on, dazzling Ken. Heavy footsteps stomped towards him, through the haze of bright lights obscuring his vision.  Rubber soles on wood. A chair opposite him creaked as someone sat down.

“…so,” a gravelly voice spoke. “Gonna tell me what you know?”

Ken strained his eyes trying to make out any features of his company. He could scarcely make out a dark-haired figure beyond the lamp’s searing beam.

“…wh-what?” he stammered. His mind was frying like bacon thanks to that damned lamp, along with the scrambled egg of his thoughts.

“You heard me,” the voice warned. “You heard me loud an’ clear, kid. See this?”

The guy behind the lamp gestured to something about his middle.

“Uhh… no.” Ken had to be honest. He couldn’t see his own nose right now, forget whatever this guy was pointing to.

“…huh. Fine then.” The man groaned. “It’s a badge. Know what that means? That means I’m in charge. And see this? It’s a gun. That means what I say goes. And see this? It’s a sandwich. It means I’m hungry. And when I’m hungry I ain’t in the mood for games. Ya hear me? So I’ll give you one more chance. Tell me what you kn-”

There was the clinking of metal against wood, and suddenly more light came flooding into the room as a door was opened in the distance.

“Err, chief?”

A hand slapped about on the wall for the light switch, and the young lady in the doorway groaned. “Oh God… what’re you doing, chief? Interrogating the kid in the _dark_? You know that’ll give you nigh-”

“I’m interrogating in the dark to project a menacing ambience, dammit Sandra!” The chief barked back at her. “Now close the goddamn door! You’re screwin’ up my feng shoo-ey!”

“Sorry chief, but the kid’s parents are here to collect him… or something…” Sandra drawled. Ken’s heart gave the smallest of jumps. Did Calvin somehow learn of his predicament, and had now rushed here to save him-

But then it was Bob whose face popped round the side of the door, looking especially tired and weary. Gene was literally hanging off the man’s arm, which answered a whole bunch of questions at once. While he had to concede the pang of heartache, his supposed guardian once again proving hopeless, Bob wasn’t exactly a disappointment.

“Argh! And I was this close to breakin’ him!” The police chief growled. “…fine, get him outta here. But I’ll be keeping a close eye on the both of you, ya hear me?”

The chief snatched a bit of paper from somewhere, followed by a pen, and scrawled a few words down on it. “The name’s Bosco. _Sergeant_ Bosco. We’re gonna be seeing a _lot_ of each other from now on, got it kid?”

A sudden chill blew over Ken, and a familiar voice echoed through his head;

_“I am thou,_

_Thou art I,_

_Thou hast acquired a new vow,_

_It shall become the wings of rebellion that breaketh thy chains of uncertainty,_

_With the birth of the Sun Persona, I have obtained the winds of blessing that shall lead to freedom and new power…”_

 

The confusion was mounting. Exactly how was this a ‘bond’? He’d just been threatened, mentally abused, probably abducted, by some cop he had never seen in person before. At least with Calvin, Gene and Bob, the strange happening was almost justified. They were nice people and he could see themselves being friendly. If he were honest, the last few hours were little more than a blur, so he was happy to get the hell out of there.

A quick exchange and a few slammed car doors later, and Ken was amidst an awkward ride back into town with Gene and Bob. The silence was so thick it was practically sentient, and it only swelled with every hanging second. Even the scenery outside seemed eerily silent, as if the whole situation were holding its breath.

“…so,” Bob eventually spoke, coming to a stop at a traffic light, and Gene literally yelped from the shock of it. He tapped two index fingers against the steering wheel, and stole a glance at his son in the passenger seat. “Any…one wanna tell me what happened?”

The awkwardness filtered back in like mist and Ken gulped. They had to tell him _something._ He’d just picked them up from the police station and it was the second time they’d both been caught doing something suspicious in just a few days. Bob seemed like a pretty reasonable guy, but basic courtesy told Ken that maybe he shouldn’t push his luck here. Ken cleared his throat, ready to answer, however,

“We… found a dead body.” Gene cut in. But his voice lacked the usual energy that Ken had come to know him for.

“…w-well yeah, I know that much,” Bob set off again with the green light, “But I’ve got the feeling there’s… more to the story than that. I mean, that Bosco guy was really goin’ at it with the interrogation thing.”

Ken felt the groan escape him. He was still seeing spots from that damned lamp.

“So… there anything more?” Bob probed again. “You don’t just wander down a dirty alley and find dead bodies… right?”

The tension thickened once again, and both boys looked away from him. Bob grimaced, and let out a sigh.

“…alright, we’ll just… leave it at that. You two’ve had a horrible day, so maybe we’ll talk about this another time?”

Gene gave a noncommittal grunt in response, and Bob rolled his eyes. That’ll do, he supposed.

Bob pulled up outside his restaurant, and the three of them disembarked. There was a moment’s pause as Bob dropped his keys on the ground, then strained to pick them back up, and finally wrestled them into the lock. The door had barely creaked open when Linda bulldozed her way down the stairs, waving her arms like an excited Italian and spouting just as much gibberish.

“Oh my baby baby babies!” She flung herself at both Gene _and_ Ken, wrapping her long arms around both boys and practically crushing them. “They called us on the phone and they told us the whole story and I got real scared because it sounded real dangerous and then I got worried when Bob went to get you both and now my feet are tired from all this pacing!”

Bob literally took a step back from the siege of words Linda had just barfed at him.

“It’s true. She wore a trench in the floor.” Louise was hovering in the stairwell. Not concerned or anything. Of course not.

“Ohh, you two had me so worried!” Linda still had the boys squashed between her arms. “Was it horrible? How did it happen? Are you stayin’ for dinner Ken?”

Ken flinched. That was sudden.

“W-well, errm…” he stammered. He looked around to Bob, then Gene, and even Louise for answers. It wasn’t _his_ decision to impose on them for dinner again, was it?

Then again, Calvin still hadn’t made an effort to contact him. He wasn’t expecting miracles, but surely the bare minimum? His phone hadn’t even buzzed.

“It is… about dinner time.” Bob scratched at his chin. “Meal for a story? Sound like a fair deal Ken?”

Ken looked the older man in the eyes. They deserved the truth, or at least a revised version of it. He and Gene shared a knowing glance, and next thing Ken knew, he’d been accommodated with a bowl of hearty soup. The identity of the meat floating in it was questionable at best, but the rich broth, crusty bread and soft, tangy vegetables had him warmed to the core in no time. The chilling ambience that had following him for the last several hours was slowly dissolved away as he tried his best to explain the situation to Gene’s parents. He left out the whole ‘other world’ detail, because that _probably_ wouldn’t have helped their case, but otherwise it was solid. Kids just randomly found dead bodies all the time, didn’t they?

“Ugh,” Linda retched, “that sounds horrible. What were you doin’ all the way out there? There’s nothin’ that kids’d be into? Unless you like fryin’ pans?”

“I _love_ frying pans.” Gene chipped in. “They can be weapons _and_ they provide food!”

“Well, they don’t _provide_ food, Gene. If anything, _you_ need to provide food for it.” said Bob.

“Well… it does kinda make sense?” Linda shrugged. “Least it explains why you two kids were out in the middle of nowhere! Oh, you poor babies, finding a dead body out in some alleyway! Eugh! That’s nasty! Are you sure you’re okay?!”

The two young boys shared another glance. Ken was first to nod, and Gene followed him up with some positive words. That must have been enough to convince her. After a couple of hours spent at the Belchers’ – there was still no response from Calvin – Ken eventually decided that he had to return home. The mood almost palpably dipped as he tucked himself into the passenger seat of Bob’s car again, being shunted back to the looming, empty mansion where he supposedly lived. Even the grounds were eerily silent as the enveloping purple of twilight crept up on them.

“Well… no ostrich this time. That’s definitely a good thing.” Bob sounded more than just relieved. “Now Ken, you’re sure you’re okay? You can come back and stay the night if you want. I know it’s kinda stupid that I’m offering you this now instead of half an hour ago when we were actually there, but the… offer’s open if you want.”

Ken opened the door, and felt a bizarre combination of familiarity and lament wash over him in the breeze. The inexplicable smell of pineapples, and the sprawling corridors of Fischoeder mansion. Whether he liked it or not, he was home. He muttered his thanks to Bob, who echoed the sentiment before trundling away.

Ken sighed, and let himself into the empty shell. Immediately the heavy bass of trance music thudded against his eardrums, followed up by the velvety tinge of strobe lights. It got louder with every step he took. Whatever this was, it must’ve been what was keeping Calvin busy all damn day. Ken followed the noise into what just that morning was the dining hall. It seemed like eons ago, the last time he’d shared a meal with his supposed guardian, but even though in reality it was just a few hours or so ago, the stark difference made him feel like he’d been away for _years_ , not hours. A bright red carpet runway had been literally nailed into the floor, while Calvin and a bunch of other highly groomed weirdos in suits sat about the room in chairs. There were exactly nine disco balls hanging from the ceiling, as well as a giant inflatable mammal of some description.  Suddenly, a portly man with thick, heavy glasses and a grade B combover burst out of… some hallway or another, garbed in a skin tight, zebra print leotard. It, combined with the enormous fluffy slippers, gave the corpse in the alleyway some serious competition.

After the first guy had strutted every curve he possessed across the runway, and then back out again, things only went from bad to worse as Frank the ostrich stomped out after him. Somehow also wearing a zebra print bodysuit and slippers, it hissed at the man as it trotted past, but obediently did a lap of the runway, head bobbing with every step. The suited weirdos gave a half-hearted show of applause, but then a disco ball snapped from its tether and fell to the floor with a crash. Frank gave an almighty shriek and rocketed out of the room, knocking over one of the suits on its way. Strangely enough, this seemed to delight them, and then Calvin himself stood up to take a bow.

“Thank you one, thank you all!” He cried. “I hope you’ve enjoyed my ‘Man Dresses Wild’ fashion show! We thank you for your patronage! I have set up a GoFundMe on the interweb for those considering donating! Those who send us twenty dollars or more will receive a complementary Frank bobblehead!”

Calvin dug something out of his pocket. “Look at that little feathery man bobble! He can be yours for just twenty bucks! Do I have any takers?!”

The inexplicably perfect model of Frank had bobbled for barely a moment before the room was green with money. The toffs in suits were digging fistfuls of cash out of pretty much everywhere. Weirder still, Calvin didn’t even seem slightly perturbed by this sudden demands for bobbleheads. He merely raised his hands to calm the madness, and sauntered over to the other end of the room. He opened a cupboard and pulled out armfuls more bobbleheads.  The room suddenly exploded in cheers again.

Ken had to remember himself and stepped out of the way just in time for the two dozen or so suited weirdos to make a hasty exit from Fischoeder mansion. Ken shook his head, rubbed his eyes, and walked back into the room, where only one suited man was still engaging in enthusiastic conversation with Calvin.

“An excellent display Calvin, very excellent, rather,” the man grabbed Calvin’s hand with both of his and wrung it fiercely. “Hm hmm! That’s the best thing about large birds! The more feathers you pluck, the funnier they look!”

“A-ha!” Calvin chortled back. “Yes, Felix attempted that once. It did not end well. Why, every night I had to dose him with – oh, Ken my boy! H-how long have you been standing there?!”

Ken shuffled in the doorway. “…long enough.”

“Well, then!” Calvin and his friend had turned about to address him properly. “Nothing to worry about, Ken! You just walked in on one of my many money-making endeavours. And this here is an old friend of mine, Randolph Brackenbrown! Go on, introduce yourself!”

“Aha, so _you_ are the one taking up Calvin’s time!” This Randolph also wrung Ken’s hand, practically tearing it off at the socket. “Yes Calvin, excellent thinking once again. Children! The future in a pliable, fun-sized package!”

Despite the apparent delight in his voice, Randolph’s eyebrow arched condescendingly and Ken couldn’t help but distance himself from the weirdo. This guy made Calvin look tame.

“Yes indeed, Randolph!” Calvin cut in just in time. “But I’m afraid you cannot take this one, for I am taking excellent care of him!”

“Blast it all,” Randolph’s eyebrow was still impressively arched. “Oh, I suppose I’ll have to go find one or something. Where did you get yours from, Calvin? Gas station? Internet?”

“My second cousin Matilda, I’m afraid.” Calvin merely shrugged.

“Fantastic! I will have her provide more!” Randolph pumped a fist into the air. He gave Calvin a sage nod, another to Ken, and then marched out of the room.

“Shouldn’t you… be worried about that?” Ken pointed after him.

“Oh, he’s of no concern, Ken. His words may be fancy, but he’ll never find her! The slightest whiff of paraffin and he’s hopeless! Now, how has your day been?”

Ken looked up to his supposed guardian. Then he looked around the ruined dining room or whatever they were currently both standing in. The red-carpet Calvin had tacked down had been torn in multiple places, there were dozens of bobbleheads littering the floor, and the fallen disco ball from earlier had smashed into hundreds of tiny pieces. Did he really want to add to his guardian’s stress levels with a far-fetched tale about finding a dead body in an alleyway?

On the other hand, Calvin was one of few people who might have believed such a tale. Ken stared at his feet for a moment, pondering.

“…ehh,” he forced a shrug. “Slow day, really. Smashed a frozen banana?”

“Ahh, bananas. The foulest of all the fruits,” Calvin smirked. “Good thinking, Ken! Speaking of fruit, would you wish to slaughter some more with me?”

Ken looked to Calvin’s warm smile and suppressed the sigh that was bubbling from within.

“…sure thing. Who was that other guy from earlier?”

“Ohh, that was my brother Felix! I’m surprised you hadn’t met him by now! He and Frank do _not_ get along, you see, so I have to keep them separate where possible!”

Ken indulged his guardian for a few hours, working together with the older man to slice up imaginary fruit on his phone. He knew that, deep within, perhaps he _should_ have told the full story that night, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Stats
> 
> You feel a faint bond between you and Sergeant Bosco. Your Sun Social Link is currently at: One.
> 
> Bob seems to care about you. You feel your relationship could grow stronger soon!
> 
> You played a good game of Salad Samurai! Your Proficiency has increased!
> 
> Evening guys. Just to keep you up to speed, here's a summary of all the stats and crap as of this chapter:
> 
> Proficiency: 6  
> Courage: 5  
> Charm: 2  
> Understanding: 0  
> Knowledge: 3
> 
> Social links:  
> Fool: Rank 1  
> Hierophant: Rank 2  
> Emperor: Rank 1  
> Sun: Rank 1
> 
> As always, feedback is very much appreciated. Due to the both of us being obligation free over the holidays, we're much more able to get chapters published. Seeya soon!


	13. A Disappearing Act

_"Good morning Bog Harbour. This is Olsen Benner reporting. In a shocking turn of events, there has been a sudden development in the disappearance of young children in the area.”_

A bleary-eyed Ken crunched on his toast, blinking at the TV’s glare.

_“Local police forces have recently spoken to two eyewitnesses, who cannot be named for legal reasons, regarding the discovery of a body in the downtown area of the city. An official report has not yet been released, however there is reason to believe that it is the body of local student Phoebe Cramb, who was reported missing two months ago. There is a feeling of worry among the local residents, especially with another child reported missing last week. Wagstaff student Peter Pescadero went missing between the hours of 3pm and 6pm when he failed to return home after orchestra practice.  If you have any information, or know of anyone between the ages of 9 and 14 who may have gone missing in the past few weeks, please contact us on the number at the-“_

With a sigh, Ken switched the TV off again. The ‘missing’ poster of some redheaded boy faded away into static, and he got up and stretched.

It had been a… turbulent few days, to say the least. It was one of the first times that Ken was glad to be living at Fischoeder mansion, because none of the media people dared go near it. That didn’t stop them blowing in and out like gales whenever he tried to do anything else, like go outside, or visit the restaurant, or go to school, or look out the window, but within the walls of the mansion at least, he was safe from their piercing and… bizarre questions.

The media, at least, would get tired eventually. Ken knew this. He just had to put up with it for a few more days until something else happened in the news. This might’ve been a sleepy town, but something more exciting was surely going to happen soon. Just a little while longer, and the media gargoyles would eventually back off.

Weirdly enough though, the media weren’t the worst part. They could be stopped by the school gates. It was the constant mutterings, hushed voices and whispered accusations that followed Gene and Ken like a bad smell. That, and the weight of Sergeant Bosco’s threat from the police station. He hadn’t seen him recently, but it didn’t stop him from feeling nervous every time he rounded a corner.

Then, of course, there was Courtney.

 “H-hey Gene! Hey Ken!” She slurped, jumping out on them for what must have been the ninth or tenth time that day. “Me and Julia were gonna go watch a movie today! Did you two boys wanna come wi-”

“Urgh!” Gene literally headbutted his locker. “I’ve told you already Courtney! I do not want to watch a movie already! Go and ask someone else!”

“But I don’t wanna ask someone else,” Courtney lisped. “I wanna ask you… and Ken! It could be a double d-”

“-don…t!” Gene steamrolled his point in. “Even say it, Courtney! I don’t want any double D’s out of you! Ever! It’d be a double D-saster!”

“But what if I-“

“Gahh!” Gene cried. Without so much as another word, he simply grabbed Ken’s arm, and ran for it. Ken never knew the boy possessed such agility. The school was quickly reduced to a blur of lino and metal as the two of them zipped down the hallways, miraculously avoiding the fleshy mirages of other students, and even Mr Frond’s frantic “No running in the halls!” came in all echoey and distant, as if time itself were stretching. Gene eventually crashed to a halt via the door to the boys’ restroom, collapsing onto the floor like a sack of turnips and gasping for breath. Ken made a half an attempt to move the boy, but he might as well have attempted to part the Nile. Two and a bit tugs was more than enough effort.

“You sure you wanna lie on the restroom floor?” He eventually had to ask.

“I’ll lie on anything if Courtney’s not there, and I’ll end up going home covered in pee anyway.” The heaving mass groaned. “No Courtney, no pepperoni,”

“Paparazzi,” Ken corrected.

“Hunh? Then what do I eat on a pizza?”

 “…gummy bears?”

“Then what do you eat on a pizza?”

“I don’t like pizza.”

“…huh. Well either way, no Courtney, no weird people with cameras asking weird questions. As far as Gene is concerned, this place is heaven. Belinda Carlisle was right!”

“Welp, she sure took mah breath away!” Another voice came from one of the stalls. There was a flush, followed by the squeak of the door, and a burly, dark haired figure stood over Gene to wash his hands in the sink. “I love that one where she’s standin’ on a plane, an’ it’s super windy! I forget the name. Anyway, what’re y’all doin’ on the floor, Gene?”

“Huh?” Gene grunted. “I just said like a minute ago. We’re hiding from Courtney Wheeler.”

“I hear ya,” the older boy muttered, “Like there was this one time where m’dad ‘n’ me were hidin’ from the poh-leece, least we thought we was, but it turnt out it wus just Halloween! Also, hey there new kid. Name’s Zeke! I’ma check on outside for ya, see if it’s safe!”

Suddenly a crushing grip wrapped itself around Ken’s hand and wrung it. The experience was over almost immediately as this Zeke character disappeared past the confines of the bathroom. The door opened again, and a single arm waded back through. The fingers of the hand beckoned forwards twice, and he withdrew his arm again. That must’ve been a cue or something.

“C’mon Gene,” Ken nudged at the lump. Gene scrambled back to his feet, and the two of them followed Zeke. The halls were barren upon their return to normality. Had they been in hiding for that long?

The next lesson must have started already. Because of Courtney, their entire recess had been spent hiding in the restroom. But things were looking up, because lunch was around the corner, and there was just one lesson sandwiched in between the two. It was Ms LaBonz too, so there was every chance she didn’t even notice that he and Gene weren’t present. Both boys bid farewell to Zeke, who gave a casual wave back, and converged outside the door to Ms LaBonz’s geography classroom.

“Sshh…!” Gene put a finger to his lips, and both listened intently. Ms LaBonz had just finished muttering something to the students, and this was followed by the soft, timely clacking of obvious chalk on chalkboard. Gene gave Ken the nod, and they made their move. Ms LaBonz seemed to be chalking up an entire essay on the board, which was conveniently enough time for both of them to take their respective seats. Someone coughed, but it looked like they’d gotten away with it, just about.

“…and that’s the water cycle, kids,” LaBonz grunted, stepping away from the blackboard to reveal elaborate drawings of clouds, rain, mountains and the coastline. “Nice and simple. Oh, and Gene?”

Gene flinched, “Y-yeah?”

LaBonz moved like lightning. Before Gene could even react, something grey and rectangular had smacked him in the forehead. A cloud of chalk dust exploded from it, and Gene topped backwards from his chair.

“That’ll teach ya for turning up late,” LaBonz smirked. “You too, new kid. Bring me back my eraser.”

Gene groaned, rubbed his forehead, and clutched onto a nearby desk to steady himself. Staggering back to his feet, he locked eyes with a certain blonde.

“H-hey Gene,” Courtney smiled. Gene whimpered and flopped back down to the floor.

 

 

The drudgery of school slowly melted away, with the events of geography confined to hushed whispers throughout the corridors as Ken made his departure from the school grounds with the Belcher kids. Courtney was still following them around like a shadow, but Gene seemed to lack the energy to fend her off any more, reduced to little more than an occasional grunt of disdain.

“I know something you don’t, I know something you don’t,” she trilled, skipping around him like some kind of irritating wood nymph.

“You probably know a lot of things he doesn’t,” Louise grumbled to their left.

“She’s right, I don’t know anything!” Gene whined, slouching so low that his hands were practically dragging across the ground. “Why can’t you make her go away?!”

“That involves touching her, Gene, and I’m not prepared to deal with that.” Louise polished her knuckles against her dress. “I can’t clean up every mess you make, you know?”

“But there’s so much…!” Gene was barely even moving now. Courtney was still circling him with almost rhythmic timing, and to make things worse, who had to roll up in their police cruiser than officer Bosco himself.

“Hey, you kids,” he spoke into his megaphone while following alongside them at two, maybe three miles an hour. “Just a friendly reminder, I’m watchin’ you. You puke, I’m there with a sick bag, you hear me?!”

Before anyone could answer, the supposed professional police officer floored it and sped off down the street.

“No one tells me when I can puke!” Gene shook a fist after the departing police car.

“Oh c’mon, at least take this with you!” Louise thrust two arms at Courtney. “She’s a public menace! A scourge to society!”

“…what’s a scourge?” Courtney lisped back at her.

“…good question!” Louise didn’t miss a beat, “Go find out and get back to us! It’ll be in the dictionary somewhere!”

“I can’t do that, on account of my congenital h-”

Gene literally fell backwards onto his butt and groaned. Even Louise started twitching in frustration.

“Well go find it on the internet then!” She barked. “Just GO AWAY!”

With a two-armed shove, Louise thrust Courtney several feet away from them. The blonde’s eyes bulged, and her breathing started coming in short bursts. She grasped at her chest with both hands, and her knees began shaking.

“You owe me one, Gene.” Louise grumbled.

“Oh, thank you thank you!” Gene cried, wrapping his chubby arms around Louise and lifting her into the air.

“AHH, GET OFF! GET, OFF!” Louise screeched back at him, flailing every limb she possessed. After several kicks to the chest, Gene eventually got the hint and unhanded her, where she recoiled like an angered cat and distanced herself. “Don’t touch the Louise!” She narrowed her eyes at him and turned her back to the two siblings. “…let’s just get home already. You coming Ken?”

The three Belchers looked towards Ken, who was in turn still looking at Courtney. Her limbs were still shaking, she hadn’t said anything in ages, and her hands were still clutching at her chest. Was her heart thing… actually serious?

“She’s just doing it for attention Ken. Move it or lose it.” came Louise’s deadpan. Her expression withered quickly though, and she’d given up on him before long.

“Agh, to hell with ya. Seeya tomorrow,”

“Bye, Ken!” Gene called out before Louise could steer him away, which Tina echoed. The siblings disappeared around the next corner, leaving Ken with Courtney. She was still twitching and shaking. If this was an act, she was seriously dedicated.

She gave another tiny yelp when Ken put a hand on her shoulder. “…you okay?”

“Wh-wha?” Courtney stammered, slowly turning to face him. “K…Ken? You’re st-still here?”

“Wanted to make sure you were okay,” Ken mustered up a smile. “Don’t want anyone else dying on me this week.”

Courtney sniggered just a little. Either that or she’d started convulsing. But a smile curled at her lips, so it definitely seemed like an improvement?

“I-I’m not… gonna die, don’t worr-y,” she wheezed, and massaged her chest again. “I-it was just a shock when Louise pushed me, a-and my breathing got super tight. I… I know I make lots of excuses at school,” She averted her gaze. “…but I really do have a weak heart. I’ve had more hospital trips than I’ve had birthdays…”

There was a feeling in Ken’s own heart that he couldn’t quite put into words.

Courtney gave him another weak smile and began to toddle off in the other direction. “I’ll…. See you at school tomorrow?”

Ken caught up to her in moments with another hand on the shoulder.

“I’ll… walk you home?”

“B-but I live far away,” Courtney forestalled. “A-and you don’t wanna walk w- “

Suddenly she winced and clutched at her chest again. Immediately Ken swooped and tucked himself under her arm before she could collapse.

Barely another word was spoken as the pair of them slowly waddled home. Courtney would occasionally mutter directions, and Ken would grunt in response. Every wobbly paving stone felt like miles, they were moving so slowly, and Ken couldn’t help but hear every wheeze and sniffle that came out of her. Something moist dripped into his hair… was she crying?

Ken didn’t dare ask. He knew just enough about girls to know not to ask that sort of thing. The result would only be pain and anger.

After about sixteen years, the pair of them eventually happened upon an ordinary looking house among several other identical ones. But lo and behold, a balding man who was peering out the window gasped at them both, then dashed out of the front door moments later.

“Courtney, oh gosh you’re okay!” He immediately swaddled her, “What happened? Why didn’t you call me, let me know you were gonna be – oh, and who’s this young stranger?”

“O-oh, this is… Ken.” Courtney mumbled. “He helped me out. My heart went funny and he… helped.”

“He did?” Her father gasped. “W-well, that’s very good of you, Ken! It’s so good to find the genuine article in this day and age. And you’re so young! Why, what an upstanding young man! Would you want to join us for dinner tonight?”

“Umm…” Ken checked the time on his phone. It was already getting late, and the vague memory of a promise continued to buzz in the back of his mind like a lost fly. “…s-sorry, I can’t tonight.”

“Rain check?” Courtney’s dad gave him the creepy finger guns. “Alright, no biggy! We can reschedule! After all, it’s not every day Courtney brings a boy home with her!”

“Dad?!” Courtney squeaked, and turned beetroot in colour, just as alarm bells began ringing in Ken’s head. This guy was getting the wrong idea. Sure, he didn’t hate Courtney, but conclusions were being jumped to, and then stomped flat. He needed to straighten this out, and-

“H-he’s just… just a friend, dad.” Courtney was able to calm the situation down and reached out towards Ken. He obliged and stepped forwards, but next thing he knew his phone had been swiped out of his hands.

“…send me lots of messages?” She gave a tiny but glowing smile and handed the phone back. The familiar burning sensation in the back of his mind came once again;

“I am thou,

Thou art I,

Thou hast acquired a new vow,

It shall become the wings of rebellion that breaketh thy chains of uncertainty,

With the birth of the Priestess Persona, I have obtained the winds of blessing that shall lead to freedom and new power…”

Ken’s eye twitched. This new ‘persona’ thing was making less and less sense. Was literally everyone he met going to somehow forge some weird link with him? He stared at the number she’d just tapped out, and pocketed the phone “s-sure, I can do that.”

It had been a day. A bizarre amount of nothing happened on his long trudge back. What happened to all the paparazzi, he wondered. Had that Bosco guy done something to keep them away? Either way, he couldn’t help but feel grateful for the breathing space. Gene and his siblings were great, but being around them for too long could sometimes feel like one of those disco things. A kaleidoscope of loud music and bizarre imagery that left you half deaf. Courtney on the other hand was somehow even louder by phone than she was in person. Ken could barely look away from his phone by her constant text responses. There would be eight, ten seconds at most after sending a text that his phone would buzz again and he’d have to reply about things he often had no answer for, like his favourite potato chip flavour or duck species. It did help the time pass, however, and it felt like only moments had passed before the daunting spires of Fischoeder Mansion beckoned.

Frank the ostrich stared him down as he made his way across the grounds. The bird didn’t move a muscle, but Ken was assured that both parties knew exactly where each other stood. One foot wrong and the bird could end his life in an instant. Frank snorted and began trotting off in the other direction once it seemed satisfied.

“…phew,” Ken wiped his brow, and pulled aside the heavy front door. Being inside this house rarely failed to sour his mood, what with the lifeless hallways and endless paintings on the walls making it look more like a museum than a house, but the timely buzzing from his phone let him separate from the depression and actually do something. Playing that Salad Samurai game seemed to be the height of entertainment, as far as Calvin was concerned.

If Gene could see him now. Pleased to receive texts from Courtney. Sure, it was a desperate effort to stave off boredom, but it was still enjoying contact from Courtney. But hell, what else was there to d-

“Hello there, Ken!” Calvin’s voice echoed from some distant part of the mansion. “Come and find me in the game rooooom!”

…game room?

That was new. When did that happen? Was this another one of his hairbrained schemes? And how did Calvin even know he’d arrived home?

Ken mentally shoved that last part to one side and went to investigate. It was definitely more interesting than his previous plans of staring at the walls for a few hours and then going to sleep. He followed the source of the noise through the sprawling corridors to eventually come across what looked like an entirely new addition to the building. Looking like it had been literally duct-taped on to the rest of the mansion, everything about this room was different. No mouldy beige walls, random stone pillars, or pointless dedications to family members past. Even stepping through the doorway, Ken already loved it.

Within the confines of the room was Calvin himself. He and the combover guy from the fashion thing the other day were sat next to each other in life-size go-karts, acting as if they were actually driving the things. In front of them both on the opposite wall was a TV screen bigger than an average room, lit up with some brightly coloured video game of sorts. The display was split in half and showed two slightly different versions of the same events, where about fifteen little characters in karts tore along the dirt track, throwing bombs and the like at each other. Ken couldn’t help but smirk. So Calvin did actually know how to have fun. Between screeching tyres and explosions on screen, and the bickering between the two old men, there was just too much noise for Ken to even think straight, forget register what was actually happening. Then the world was thrown into silence as their game was paused with an ear splitting noise of some kind.

“Ken my boy!” Calvin greeted him with the usual energy, “We were just wondering where you’d gotten to! How are you liking the new addition to the house? A bit pricey, but all in a day’s work as they say!”

“…you did this in a day?” Ken frowned up at him.

“Imagine what I could do with seven,” Calvin winked back. “Either way, I felt it would help stave off boredom within these four walls. It’s all part of being a sufficient guardian, no? Also I think it’s time to officially introduce you to my brother, Felix! He helps out with my landlording sometimes! Need a bathroom? He’ll get someone to make you one!”

This Felix moved to get out of his kart but lost his balance and tumbled almost immediately. “I uh, believe we met the other day, but I did not get a proper chance to speak thanks to a certain ostrich,” he gritted his teeth. “But yes, yes, everything my dear brother said is true. You want a bathroom, I’ll hire people to build you the crap out of a bathroom!”

Ken raised a hand to shake Felix’s. The younger brother’s smile was even creepier than Calvin’s, and he wasn’t breaking his wide-eyed stare. He had to say something, else this was going to get really awkward, really fast.

“…and what about things that aren’t bathrooms?”

“Huh. Talk about a curveball,” Felix pulled a literal sock from the breast pocket of his suit – did everyone in this family live in suits? – and wiped his brow with it. “Well I… guess I could try and pay a guy to build you something else, but bathrooms are my thing, so I can’t guarantee such a high level of success!”

It didn’t take long for Ken to learn that Felix was even weirder than his brother. His moods seemed to shift from dejected to furious, with the happy medium proving rare and elusive. However, those sudden mood swings did seem to depend on how well he was doing on the racing game, so Ken decided to hold back on judgement until he could get to know Felix a little better. The hours melted away far faster in the games room than they ever would’ve otherwise, so Ken couldn’t help but feel grateful for Calvin’s innovation there. It actually didn’t feel creepy at all, playing video games until the night settled in with two middle aged brothers who did little other than bicker. Maybe now he would actually be able to invite people to his place, instead of going to theirs. With a goodnight text to Courtney, he fired off an identical message to Gene and made a note to ask him about the whole visiting thing tomorrow.

The following day passed by as little more than a blur. It was the usual smorgasbord of hushed whispers, halfhearted attempts at teaching and avoiding Courtney.  Kids were exchanging rumours about the missing kid, Peter Pescadero, like they were trading cards. These ranged from him being recruited as a spy for the British intelligence agency, being kidnapped by an improv group, and worryingly so, that he was in some way responsible for the death of Phoebe Cramb and had fled the country to avoid capture. The longer he thought about it, the more concerned he came. Two kids going missing in a small town in two months. The appearance of a strange new world only he and Gene could access. The liquified body turning up in the back alley. He had to remind himself, more than once, as he trudged towards the restaurant with Gene, that there had been no official identification of the body yet. For all he knew, there could still be a perfectly reasonable explanation for things.

Gene interrupted his thoughts with a loud belch. “Ahh! Thursday burgers are the best burgers!”

“Remember, you’re only having one so you can tell me how it is,” Bob called from the kitchen. “This is the ‘Car, Caraway Burger’, and it hasn’t had many takers today, so I’m wondering if maaaaybe it’s a dud. I asked Teddy but I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have any taste buds, ‘cos I saw him eat a sponge once.”

“All food is good food when Gene is around!” Gene squashed the tender burger in his hands. Seconds later though, the “delicacy” was already down his throat, and he was eyeing up Ken’s.

“Oh my god, do you even chew?” Bob scoffed. “Ugh, forget I asked, Gene. What about you Ken? Wanna give it a try?”

Ken felt pressured now. It may have been a free burger, and what young boy could ever turn one of those down, but Bob was expecting feedback from him. He wasn’t exactly a food critic and wasn’t even sure he knew what caraway even was. But then again, Bob had been good to him so many times recently…

Ken tapped out a quick message to Courtney – something about what he was up to – and took a hesitant nibble from the burger. The moist, fresh bun, juicy beef patty and tangy cheese were all pretty normal, however there was an odd tang he couldn’t quite identify. Whatever it was tasted on the sweet side, his unaccustomed tastebuds could identify that, but the weird, earthy texture to it seemed lost somewhere between fruity and planty...?

“Liquorice?” Ken smacked his lips. It wasn’t a pleasant flavour, he’d be the first to admit, however there was an addictive quality to it, and before he could stop himself he was going in for another bite.

“Y-yeah, that’ll be the caraway,” Bob explained. “I ground up some caraway seeds and worked them into the burger patty, so it shouldn’t overpower. It’s a taste called anise, and yeah, liquorice is where most kids’d know it from. Is it… good?”

Ken chewed his words carefully. But went for a third bite regardless. “It’s… odd. Like it doesn’t know if it wants to be sweet or savoury? I dunno, maybe it needs a sauce or something…”

“Sauce…” Bob rubbed at his chin in thought, “Huh. Maybe I can throw together a tomato relish or something? Reckon that’ll work?”

Ken nodded to himself, “Could be pretty good. Ketchup would probably be too strong?”

“A-hah!” Bob snapped his fingers in triumph. “Tomato relish, comin’ up. Hey, you’re pretty good at this Ken. Thanks for the help!”

Ken nodded his thanks, and Bob disappeared further into the kitchen, presumably to work on the tomato relish or something. That left the two boys alone in the restaurant.

“So uhh… you wanted to ask me something?” Gene stirred up conversation.

“Y-yeah,” Ken tapped out another response to Courtney on his phone. “Was just wondering if you’d wanna visit mine sometime soon? We’ve just had a games room installed, a-and-”

His phone buzzed, derailing the train of thought. Ken frowned at it and sent another hasty response. “…maybe another time. Courtney says she’s coming to visit.”

“Huh? Now?!” Gene yelped. “S-she’ll never leave if she knows where I live!” He burst up from his seat and began darting around the floor of the restaurant like a trapped animal. “N-no, can’t go outside, she’ll see me…!”

But as Gene panicked, a familiar gurgle bubbled up in Ken’s stomach. He should’ve seen it coming, really. He did just eat one of the restaurant’s burgers, after all.

“Uhh, Gene…?” He made an attempt to grab Gene’s attention.

Gene peered up from under the table, and an audible growl from his own stomach spoke louder than any words. While all this was going on, a streak of blonde appeared outside the restaurant and beamed inside at them. Her timing couldn’t have been worse.

Courtney bashed the door open. “Hi there Gene and Ken!” she cried, the bell ringing cheerfully. But no sooner had she crossed the threshold, an eerie pulse of energy burst through the restaurant. As the door closed, a slow, mournful tinkle of bells sounded.

“H-h-hey there…!” Bob panted, dashing back to the restaurant counter in the nick of time. “Good afternoon, how can I serve… you?”

Bob frowned. The restaurant was empty. But the bell rang. But… no one was there. Not even Gene or Ken, who, in every parent’s worst nightmare, had been there only a minute ago.

“What… the?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of Chapter Stats
> 
> You spent a long time in the game room! Your Proficiency has greatly increased!
> 
> You tried a strange ingredient in Bob’s Burger of the Day. Your Courage has increased!
> 
> You feel like you understand Calvin a little more. Your relationship is going to get stronger soon.
> 
> Bob appreciates you more! Your relationship is going to get stronger soon.
> 
> Happy new year everyone. Figured I'd get a chapter up in honour of that. It's another two weeks til I'm back at uni, and I'm gonna try and get as much done as possible in that time, fic wise. It's finally gaining a wee bit of traction, so might as well capitalise huh?
> 
> As always, feedback is appreciated. Thanks for reading. :)

**Author's Note:**

> I know what you're thinking;
> 
> 'Beans, why the fuck are you starting another new fic when you've got like nine unfinished ones?'
> 
> Well tell that to my random 5AM inspiration. 
> 
> It's probably the weirdest crossover idea I've ever had, and one of the most ambitious ones to boot, so myself and the lovely Oceanspiral are working on this together, in an attempt to make something amazing out of what was quite literally a brain fart. Here's hoping it doesn't all turn to shit!


End file.
